‘Trust me.’ Damien stood and held out his hand the same way he’d done earlier.

‘All right.’ Savannah lowered her hand into his and he pulled her up from the stool, closing the space between them. Savannah’s breath caught in her chest. He brushed a strand of hair off her face, his finger leaving a line of heat across her cheek. If they hadn’t been surrounded by people, she would have thought he was about to kiss her. Or maybe he was about to kiss her. Right here, in front of everyone.

***

Courtney stared at Brett, feeling like she could get lost in his green eyes. Then she realised what she was thinking and she looked away, shaking the thought from her head. They would be stepsiblings soon. She couldn’t help her reaction to him, but it wasn’t appropriate.

Brett tried to say something, but the music drowned out his voice.

‘What?’ Courtney screamed, leaning towards him and cupping a hand around her ear. Her hand brushed against his shoulder and the contact made her stomach flip.

‘Want to get out of here?’ he asked.

***

‘So, what did you do last night?’ Courtney asked Peyton as they passed the show. ‘I didn’t hear you get back.’

‘Just hung out with a friend.’ Peyton replayed the night in her mind. After the fireworks at Myst, Oliver had said he was sick of his father watching his every move, so they’d gone to another club. The drinks had flowed all night, so everything was hazy, but they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Since Oliver lived with his parents and Peyton lived with her sisters, Oliver had the brilliant idea of getting a room.

She smiled at the memory of what had happened once they got there.

MICHELLE MADOW has visited Las Vegas every year since she was fifteen years old and was inspired to write The Secret Diamond Sisters while walking through the beautiful Wynn Hotel. She grew up in the suburbs of Baltimore, then went to Rollins College in Winter Park, Florida. She wrote her first novel, Remembrance, in her third year of college, which she later went on to self-publish as book one of the Transcend Time Saga. She wrote The Secret Diamond Sisters in the year following graduation and is so happy to finally share it with the world!

Michelle lives in Boca Raton, Florida, where she is writing more novels for young adults. She loves reading, spending time with family and friends, travelling, shopping, sunshine, Disney fairy tales and Broadway musicals. She loves connecting with readers online, so be sure to follow her on Facebook (Michelle Madow), Twitter (@MichelleMadow) and Instagram (@MichelleMadow).

Michelle Madow

www.miraink.co.uk

To Brent Taylor, for believing in this book from the beginning

Contents

First Post :)

chapter 1: Savannah

chapter 2: Courtney

chapter 3: Peyton

chapter 4: Madison

Fourth of July party at Myst

chapter 5: Savannah

chapter 6: Courtney

chapter 7: Peyton

chapter 8 Madison

Red Rock Overlook

chapter 9: Savannah

chapter 10: Courtney

chapter 11: Peyton

chapter 12:Madison

The Diamond Sisters

chapter 13: Savannah

chapter 14: Courtney

chapter 15: Peyton

chapter 16: Madison

Madison Lockhart

chapter 17: Savannah

chapter 18: Courtney

chapter 19: Peyton

chapter 20: Madison

Hottest Guys?

chapter 21: Savannah

chapter 22: Courtney

chapter 23: Peyton

chapter 24: Madison

The Diamond grand opening

chapter 25: Savannah

chapter 26: Courtney

chapter 27: Peyton

chapter 28: Madison

WTF

Acknowledgments

The Secret Diamond Sisters Playlist

Q&A with Michelle Madow

www.campusbuzz.com

High Schools > Nevada > Las Vegas > The Goodman School

First Post :)

Posted on Sunday 07/03 at 12:51 AM

It’s about time campusbuzz got a high school forum. I’m sure we’ll have lots to talk about. We’re young, we’re beautiful, and Vegas is our personal playground. But let’s save the whole “who’s the hottest girl/guy in the school” stuff for later (although I fully expect to be mentioned in that discussion), because I just discovered something much better to talk about.

You know how the school started building a new (and much needed) gym in the beginning of summer? It’s going to be named the Diamond Sports Center. And yes, by “Diamond” I mean Adrian Diamond, the owner of the new Diamond Hotel and Casino, along with a bunch of other hotels on the Strip.

An anonymous source told me that three new girls with the last name of Diamond will be starting at the Goodman School in the fall. My guess is they’re somehow related to Adrian and the school let them in because of the money he gave for the gym. Makes sense, right?

Except that I checked online and couldn’t find anything about Adrian Diamond having a daughter—let alone three of them!

Anyone got any info?

1: Posted on Sunday 07/03 at 01:31 AM

the internet says nothing about adrian diamond having any kids. sounds like your “sources” don’t know what they’re talking about. maybe you can find something on facebook?

2: Posted on Sunday 07/03 at 01:47 AM

Facebook’s got over 165,000 people on it with the last name Diamond. Dumb idea.

3: Posted on Sunday 07/03 at 06:20 PM

i don’t go to goodman but my mom works at the diamond and said their getting a 3 bedroom condo on the top floor ready for some “special guests” who will be staying there for an extended period of time…

4: Posted on Sunday 07/03 at 06:40 PM

Poster #3—interesting to know. But you should consider applying to Goodman. If you manage to get in, then you can learn the difference between “their” and “they’re.” Just a suggestion :)

chapter 1:

“You’re definitely coming to the movies with us tonight, right?” Savannah’s best friend, Evie, asked as Savannah got out of the car. “And sleeping over again?”

“Of course.” Savannah shared a conspiratorial smile with Evie, knowing that “movies” was code for pretending to walk into the theater while Evie’s mom was watching, then having Evie’s current boy toy pick them up and drive them to the unsupervised party five minutes away. They could only stay at the party for three hours, but it was better than not going.

“Thanks for driving me home from volleyball, Mrs. Brown,” she said, waving to Evie’s mom. She was always glad Mrs. Brown didn’t mind dropping her off, because Evie was the only friend of hers who had seen where she lived. If the other girls on the volleyball team saw the ramshackle apartment building where she lived with her mom and two older sisters that looked more like a run-down motel than a home, they would probably laugh about it behind her back.

“It’s no problem, Savannah,” Mrs. Brown said from the driver’s seat. She had the same strawberry-blond hair as her daughter, and the two could almost pass as sisters. “Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up tonight?”

“I’ll get one of my sisters to drop me off.” She didn’t want to make Mrs. Brown come out of her way twice in one day. It was already more than enough that Evie’s mom drove her home every day after practice during volleyball season, and that she didn’t mind when Savannah stayed the night for two or three days at a time over the summer.

Anyway, her sisters owed her after making her come home now, when she was supposed to have stayed the rest of the day at Evie’s before they went out for the night. Life would be so much easier once she got her license. Of course, she would have to figure out how to borrow Peyton’s car. Convincing her sister would be difficult, because Peyton had saved up for years for that beat-up piece of crap whose engine sounded like it could die any day, but the possibility was better than nothing.

“See you soon, S!” Evie called as her mom pulled away from the curb.

“Bye, E,” Savannah replied, and they both made the sign-language letter for C with their hands. Savannah and Evie called themselves S.E.C., which stood for the “Savannah/Evie Club,” and the letter C was their special symbol. “See you tonight!”

She walked down the sidewalk to the door with the peeling blue paint, wondering what was up. Her sisters never made her come home when she had plans, but Courtney’s voice on the phone had sounded so strained that Savannah knew something was wrong.

She let herself inside and found Peyton and Courtney standing around the stained kitchen table, their grandma and a man Savannah didn’t recognize sitting in the two chairs. He wore a fancy brown suit that probably cost more than everything in Savannah’s wardrobe combined, and his expression was so solemn that he looked like he was at a funeral. Her grandma and sisters looked equally upset.

“What’s going on?” Savannah dropped her sleepover bag on the cracked linoleum floor. She hadn’t been home since yesterday morning, and had an awful feeling this had to do with the one person who wasn’t here—her mom.

“Hi, sweetie.” Grandma always looked younger than her seventy-so years, but her eyes were so sad right now that her age shined through. “Sorry for making you come home early. I wouldn’t have asked unless it was serious.”

“Where’s Mom?” Savannah swallowed and leaned against the arm of the living room couch, expecting the worst. Her mom had always drunk a lot, but after she’d lost her job as a secretary last year, she had spiraled out of control. Her sisters tried to shield Savannah from seeing what went on, but Savannah wasn’t stupid. She knew her mom was drinking all day, so much that she got physically sick at night and in the morning, and that she couldn’t hold on to a hostess or waitress job for longer than two months. They could barely keep enough food in the house anymore, since Mom blew all the grocery money on alcohol.

“That’s what we needed you here to discuss,” the man cut in. He looked like he would fit in better in a fancy office building than their crappy apartment in Fairfield, California.

“Who’s he?” Savannah asked Grandma.

“This is Mr. Webster,” Grandma said. “He’s a lawyer who works for your father.”

“What?” Savannah’s heart pounded. That couldn’t be true. Savannah had always been warned that her father was dangerous, that he didn’t want anything to do with her and her sisters. She hated that he felt that way, but it was how her life had always been, so she’d accepted it and moved on. “Am I missing something?”

“We all are.” Peyton’s eyes blazed. “We’ve been lied to for our entire lives.”

That was becoming clear to Savannah, but it was Courtney who caught her up on what had happened while she had been having a sleepover at Evie’s.

“Last night, Mom was pulled over for drunk driving on her way to work,” Courtney said, somehow managing to stay calm as she relayed the story. “They brought her to the station, and she lost her license and job.” Was that the fifth or sixth job she’d lost in the past year? Savannah had lost count. “I called Grandma to get Mom out of the station, and then...” Courtney shrugged and looked at Grandma, as if she wanted her to continue.

“I hoped your mom would be able to keep a job and get her life back on track, but enough is enough,” Grandma said in her matter-of-fact manner. “I know it’s never been easy living with her, but I’ve seen what the three of you have gone through in the past year, and I can’t sit back and watch anymore. I would take you in myself if I didn’t have so much on my hands with your Aunt Sophie’s chemo treatments.” Her chin quivered at the mention of her twin, who had been staying with Grandma in her one-bedroom apartment since her cancer diagnosis a few months ago. “So I did the only thing I could think to do—I called your father for backup.”

Savannah couldn’t believe she was hearing this right. “But our father wants nothing to do with us.” She turned to her sisters for support, but Peyton looked angry enough to shoot fire from her eyes, and Courtney’s expression was blank, as though she was fighting to hold on to an inkling of control.

“Mr. Diamond has been aware of your living situation, and was about to take action himself when your grandmother called him,” Mr. Webster said. “He made some calls last night and arranged for your mother to receive inpatient treatment at a rehabilitation facility in Arizona. She was flown there this morning and is settling in, but the facility has given strict orders that your mom not contact anyone from outside until her doctors feel she is healthy enough to do so. They hope she’ll be ready to switch to outpatient status in a few weeks, but they warned it could be longer.”

Savannah’s head spun. How had all this happened while she had been having a sleepover at Evie’s, gossiping about which girls at school they wanted to try to become friends with next year and what guys they thought were hot, while experimenting with daring makeup looks?

“You didn’t let me say goodbye?” She looked at her sisters, unable to believe they could betray her like that.

“None of us were able to say goodbye.” Courtney came over and wrapped an arm around Savannah’s shoulders. “Mom didn’t want us to see her like that. She said it would be easier this way, and you know she hates goodbyes. We just need to focus on being thankful she’s finally getting the treatment she needs.”

“She was probably ashamed, and afraid we would ask her questions she wasn’t ready to answer,” Peyton said. “And she would have been right.”

“But with Mom not here, where are we supposed to go?” Savannah wiped away a tear that had slid down her cheek. She was grateful her mom was getting help, but they still needed her around. Sure, she wasn’t always the best at taking care of them, but she was all they had.

“You know I love you and your sisters, and would be happy for you to live with me if there were no other options,” Grandma said. “But you deserve more than sleeping on the couch and air mattresses in the living room, and I worry about the stress the changes would cause Aunt Sophie. Luckily, your father has generously offered for you to move in with him.”

“Are you serious?” Savannah didn’t believe this. She and her sisters had never met their father. And now he was offering for them to move in with him? “Why now? I thought it wasn’t safe for us to be around him? And where does he even live?”

Mr. Webster was the one to answer. “Mr. Diamond asked me to provide as little information as possible, because he wants to personally answer your questions, but I can assure you that your safety is his top priority. He’s sending a driver to pick you up tomorrow morning who will take you to the airport. I know this is short notice to give you girls to pack, but do what you can and Mr. Diamond will arrange for the rest of your belongings to be brought to your new accommodations at a later date.”

A plane. Which meant if it took her mom longer than a few weeks to get better, Savannah would start her sophomore year at a new school, with people she’d never met. How was she going to break this to Evie? And how would she get through school without her best friend by her side?

“What if we don’t want to go?” Peyton crossed her arms and glared at Mr. Webster. “I’m almost eighteen, you know. I should have a say in this.” Peyton’s birthday was in March, which hardly made her “almost eighteen,” but Savannah kept her mouth shut.

“As it is now, you’re still a minor, so you have no choice,” Mr. Webster said. “With your mother unfit, it is in your father’s rights to insist you live under his care. You will pack your bags and be ready to leave by ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“What about the apartment?” Courtney asked. “What will happen to it while we’re gone?”

“Mr. Diamond will make sure it’s maintained,” Mr. Webster said. “I’m sorry to throw this on you all at once. I know this won’t be easy for the three of you, but he will answer all your questions when you arrive. Now, I imagine you need time to pack. Is there anything more you want to ask?”

“I think you have it covered, Mr. Webster.” Grandma spoke for them. “Now if you wouldn’t mind, I would like some time with my granddaughters.”

“Of course.” He nodded and let himself out.

“You can’t expect us to do this,” Peyton said to Grandma once he was gone. “All my life you’ve said our father is dangerous and he doesn’t want us around. Now we’re expected to forget all that and move in with him? I won’t do it. I refuse.”

“Your mother has her reasons for wanting to distance herself from your father, and while being around him can be dangerous for those close to him, he’s not a bad man,” Grandma said. “He’ll explain it all to you once he meets you. Just remember that your mother loved him once, and while it won’t be easy, I hope the three of you can find it in your hearts to give him a chance. Can you promise to do that? For me?”

When she put it like that, it was impossible to say no. “Okay.” Savannah nodded, trying to swallow away the lump in her throat. “I’ll try.”

Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket, and she took it out to check the text. It was from Evie.

Any luck convincing one of your sisters to drive you tonight?

Savannah stared blankly at the beat-up flip phone. The plans she’d made with Evie less than an hour ago felt like they’d happened in another life. She couldn’t wrap her mind around what she’d just learned, let alone tell someone else, even if that someone was her best friend.

Can’t go tonight. Something big happened. Not ready to talk about it yet but I’ll call you when I am <3

She pressed Send, then dropped her phone in her bag, not wanting to look at it again that night.

* * *

The next morning, they lugged their bags outside and tearfully hugged Grandma goodbye. The stretch limo that pulled up in front of their apartment looked foreign amongst the beat-up cars lining their street, and the sight of it sent Savannah’s ideas of who her father was out the window. He couldn’t be a homeless drugged-out loser if he’d sent a limo to pick them up.

As of last night, the most expensive car Savannah had ever been in was the Volkswagen Jetta Evie’s mom drove when she brought them home from volleyball practice or to the mall. Now, she climbed into the sleek limo, her fingers grazing the soft leather of the wraparound seat. Lights lined the ceiling, and there was a wooden minibar across from the long side of the seat, an open bottle of champagne chilling in the ice bucket and three glasses on display. The label on the champagne read Dom Pérignon, and while Savannah had never tasted Dom before, she recognized it as a pricey drink from the television shows she watched.

She wasn’t hugely into drinking, because she’d seen first-hand how destructive alcohol could be, but she wasn’t a prude, either. She didn’t want to be “that lame girl” at the party who refused to drink. And now she had the opportunity to taste Dom Pérignon! Her friends would be so envious when they found out. It was the sort of drink she imagined she would get to try if her dreams ever came true and she became a famous pop star. One glass wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“Don’t even think about it,” Courtney warned as Savannah reached for the bottle.

“But it’s Dom Pérignon.” Savannah hated when Courtney tried to boss her around. They were only eleven months apart, but Courtney was so responsible all the time. It made the gap feel wider. “It’s probably hundreds of dollars for this bottle. We have to try it.”

“I’m not trying anything he buys for us.” Peyton scrunched her nose and plugged her headphones into her ears.

Knowing Courtney wouldn’t physically stop her for fear of making a mess, Savannah poured herself a glass and took a sip, the tiny bubbles gliding down her throat. Dom Pérignon was better than anything she’d ever tasted. But there was that little voice in the back of her head, warning her that drinking in the morning was something her mom would do. Savannah cleared this up with her conscience by reminding herself that if her mom were here, she would finish the bottle. Savannah was only having one glass, and only to taste it.

She felt so sophisticated with her drink, and wished she’d worn something dressier than the dark jeans and pink tunic top she’d bought at Forever 21 a few weeks ago. She’d thought it looked good when she’d put it on this morning, but she hardly looked like the type of person who arrived at the airport in a limo.

But there was nothing she could do about it now.

She looked at Courtney and Peyton, sitting in the front-facing seat, and wondered how they didn’t share her amazement that they were in the back of a limo. Courtney’s long blond hair had dried into natural waves—the kind Savannah wished she had—and she was staring out the window, her chin balanced in her hand as she watched the scenery. She kept biting her thumbnail—a giveaway that she was nervous, which made Savannah feel on-edge, too. Courtney never had a problem handling everything thrown her way—school, keeping the apartment clean, taking extra shifts at work to pay the bills and making sure Savannah got her homework done. While the bossiness got annoying sometimes, Savannah didn’t know what she would do without her.

Peyton slumped in her seat, her headphones plugged into her ears and huge dark sunglasses covering her eyes. She had pulled the hood of her black terry-cloth jacket over her head midway through the ride, and her long, light brown hair with the occasional streak of blue fell over her shoulders. Savannah hated the blue streaks. Why her sister would want to look like a freak was beyond her. Not that Peyton would listen to Savannah’s opinion.

Getting the vibe that neither of her sisters felt like talking, Savannah looked out the window. They drove past some small run-down apartment buildings and entered the highway. They passed by tons of vineyards, the grape vines bright green and alive under the hot July sun. Where were they heading? Last she’d heard, her father lived in Las Vegas, but it had been fifteen years since her mother had left him—right after she got pregnant with Savannah. He could be anywhere now.

It wasn’t like he’d bothered to contact them. They didn’t even know his first name. Savannah always assumed he was incapable of taking care of them, but if he could afford a limo, why hadn’t he made an effort to get to know his own daughters? To acknowledge their existence? He was only interested in them now because he had no other choice. Savannah’s eyes watered as she realized again how alone she and her sisters were, and she took a sip of champagne to force away the tears. She and her sisters had plenty of differences, but at least no matter what was coming next, they would have each other.

Courtney must have noticed how Savannah had tensed up, because she looked at her and forced a smile. “How does it taste?” she asked, motioning to the champagne.

“It’s good,” Savannah replied. “Are you sure you don’t want some? We probably won’t have an opportunity to taste something as expensive as this ever again.” She took another sip, relishing the citrusy taste. She’d bet the champagne cost more than the Longchamp bag Evie had just gotten for her birthday. Savannah wished she had a phone that could send picture texts, so she could show Evie and some of the other girls from the team what she was drinking. They would be so jealous.

“I’m sure.” Courtney shook her head. “It’s first thing in the morning, and the champagne isn’t even ours.”

Savannah shrugged at Courtney’s goody-goody attitude and looked over at Peyton, who was lost in iPod land and ignoring her.

Savannah decided to change that. She lifted the half-filled glass to her lips and threw her head back, taking a large gulp. It fizzed going down her throat, the liquid swirling in her stomach as it made its way down.

“Getting drunk first thing in the morning?” Peyton removed one of her earbuds and dropped it onto her lap. “You’ll end up like Mom.”

“Is that necessary?” The harshness in Courtney’s usually calm voice took Savannah by surprise. “Mom messed up, but she tried. Don’t be so hard on her. But Peyton’s right,” she said, refocusing on Savannah. “You shouldn’t be drinking—not after everything with Mom. I know you think she doesn’t care about what you do, but she wouldn’t want you to repeat her mistakes.”

“I’m not like Mom,” Savannah insisted. “I only wanted a glass. I mean, it’s Dom Pérignon. Do you know how many people would kill to try this? Besides, Mom would have finished the bottle by now.”

“She would have,” Peyton agreed—which surprised Savannah, because Peyton never agreed with anything she said. “Which made it real easy for our nonexistent father to take us away from home without giving us any say.”

“The nonexistent father who she led us to believe was a homeless drug addict,” Savannah said. “Which he clearly isn’t. Not if he can afford all this. I know it’s a long shot, but maybe...”

“Don’t tell me you’re wishing he’s that big-time hotel owner again,” Peyton said. “Just because he rented a limo to get us doesn’t mean anything. He wasted all this money trying to impress us, and it won’t make me like him after he ignored us for our whole lives. Besides, you know there are seventy-five people with the last name of Diamond in Las Vegas—”

“And twenty thousand in America.” Savannah cut her off, imitating her sister’s superior tone. “I know this. You’ve told me a million times. But it would be cool if he was.”

Okay, it would be more than cool if her father was the Adrian Diamond—the one who owned numerous hotels in Las Vegas and had more money than Savannah could imagine. The life she could have then would be beyond her wildest dreams.

It would be like living in a Las Vegas fairy tale.

“I wouldn’t even want him to be our father,” Peyton continued. “Who the hell goes fifteen years without talking to their daughters and then suddenly wants custody?”

“Our dad,” Courtney said, her voice tight. “But Mom needs to be in rehab. After all the years we tried and failed to convince her to get help, she’s finally there, and I’m glad she’s getting treatment. Just think—in a few months, Mom will be better. And in the meantime, maybe our father won’t be that bad.”

“Are you sure you didn’t have any champagne while I was sleeping?” Peyton snickered and plugged her earbud back in.

Courtney opened her mouth as if she wanted to retaliate, but of course she didn’t. Arguing with Peyton was pointless. Peyton never listened to anyone.

“Maybe you’re right,” Savannah said to Courtney. “He did send a limo. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t care about us.”

“Yeah.” Courtney frowned, her forehead creasing in thought.

Savannah didn’t like seeing her so worried. She wasn’t used to feeling like she had to take care of her sisters. Usually it was the other way around. Her throat tightened, and while she wanted to say something comforting, she had no idea what would help. Instead, she looked out the long window in front of her, the sun lighting up the cloudless California day. The limo exited the highway and passed a large sign announcing their arrival at Napa Valley Airport. There were barely any other cars around, and the airport was small. Only a few boxy buildings and planes were up ahead, and beyond that, the rolling hills of the vineyards in the countryside.

“Is it just me, or does this place seem deserted?” Savannah asked.

“Napa Valley is a private airport,” Courtney said. “I don’t think they have commercial flights.”

“No commercial flights?” Savannah repeated. Because if the airport didn’t have commercial flights, they only had private ones. And that would mean...

Savannah’s stomach swooped at the possibility, and she leaned closer to the window. Could her guess about their father be right?

The road widened, and her heart thumped as they approached the buildings. The limo drove past a few planes—some small, some large—and came to a stop.

Towering in front of them was the biggest private jet of them all, the gold lettering along the side spelling three distinct words:

Diamond Resorts Worldwide.

Adrian Diamond was their father.

chapter 2:

No way.

Courtney stepped out of the limo and stared at the jet. If this plane was for them, sent by their father...then Savannah was right. Courtney had always dismissed her younger sister’s fairy-tale notion that the infamous hotel owner Adrian Diamond could be their father, never considering that Savannah could be right. But unless the limo driver had accidentally picked them up instead of three other Diamond sisters living in a run-down apartment in Fairfield, California—this jet was for them.

Not believing what she was seeing, Courtney examined Savannah’s reaction. Her younger sister had frozen, her mouth dropped open. A breeze blew some of her dark blond hair across her forehead, and she pushed it behind her ears, her eyes fixed on the jet. Courtney would have laughed if she didn’t feel as astonished herself.

“Are you the Diamond sisters?” A low voice belonging to a large man in a white suit pulled Courtney out of the shock. His black hair had been slicked back with enough oil to fuel the plane, and he had one of those square jaws she associated with football players.

She would have assumed he was their father, but his dark features bore no resemblance to their own.

“Yes.” Courtney looked him in the eye and stood straighter. “I’m Courtney. This is Peyton and Savannah.”

“I’m Captain Rogers.” He held out a strong hand in greeting. Courtney shook it, then quickly dropped her arm back to her side. “I’ll be taking care of you today.”

So he wasn’t their father. Adrian Diamond must have more important things to do with his time than pick his daughters up himself.

Not that Courtney expected much from the man who hadn’t spoken to them in fifteen years. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but he had some major explaining to do when they met. Courtney didn’t know how she was going to handle that. What could he say to make it okay that he’d disappeared from their lives? There was no good reason for that, especially for someone as well-off as Adrian Diamond. What could have happened for him to want nothing to do with her or her sisters? For him to have abandoned them?

Her head spun, and realizing her breaths had become shallow, she forced herself to inhale deep and gain control of the situation. She would handle this like she handled everything—one step at a time. There had to be a logical reason why Adrian Diamond hadn’t been involved in the lives of his three daughters.

But as much as Courtney hated to admit it, they could have used his support. If he’d helped them out growing up—just a little bit—she had no idea how different her life would be. She hadn’t minded getting a job to help her family, but if she’d had more time to focus on her studies instead of having to pick up extra shifts to pay bills, her grades and practice SATs would have been better. They weren’t bad—she had a 3.76 GPA and her practice test scores were above the 90th percentile—but with more time to study, she could have improved.

Courtney wrapped her arms around herself and looked up at the plane. All she could do now was focus on meeting her father. Peyton was so angry, and Savannah was so hopeful, that neither of them could approach this rationally. Her sisters needed her to be the one in charge.

“So do we just...get on?” Peyton pointed her thumb at the entrance steps to the plane, which were surrounded by security guards.

The captain laughed. “If you’re ready to depart, then yes. You can ‘just get on.’”

“And the plane is going where?” Courtney asked.

“Las Vegas,” he answered.

“Vegas!” Savannah clapped her hands. “I knew it!”

Seeing a movement in her peripheral vision, Courtney glanced at the van with their luggage, which had followed the limo to the airport. Three men of varying ages had already opened the back doors and were unloading it. They didn’t have much to worry about—only six duffels between the three of them, and Savannah’s beat-up guitar. Last night, Grandma had helped them pack all their stuff from the bedroom the three of them shared.

The captain motioned toward the jet as if he was saying “all aboard” with his hand. Savannah bolted for the stairs, her hair flying behind her. Courtney followed, and she heard Peyton stomping behind.

Courtney couldn’t believe this was happening. A private plane? Maybe she was dreaming. Savannah’s ideas about their father being the Adrian Diamond must have invaded her subconscious. But while Courtney had vivid dreams, they were nothing like this. She felt the cold metal of the railing against her hand when she walked up the steps, and smelled the warmth of summer as it blew through the air. If her mom could see them now, she wouldn’t believe it.

Then Courtney realized her mom would believe it. Because her mom had known who their father was, and she’d never told Courtney or her sisters. Even Peyton had been too young when they’d moved to remember him. Their mom had always said she didn’t want the girls growing up in the dangerous environment their father lived in, and left it at that. The divorce papers for the short marriage had gone through right after Savannah was born, and their mother had always refused to discuss him, other than to say that his lifestyle wasn’t appropriate for raising children. It had been her decision, but Courtney figured if he’d wanted them around, he would have done something about it. He hadn’t, so she’d done her best not to think about him. Getting upset about the past accomplished nothing.

So what made him care now? Courtney couldn’t ignore what was right in front of her—their father was a powerful man. If he’d wanted to be in their lives, he could have made it happen.

But she shouldn’t jump to conclusions. She would sort out her feelings when she was able to hear the responses to her questions from her father himself.

Courtney reached the top of the stairs and stepped through the door. The jet was unlike anything she could have imagined. It looked like a fancy living room; the tubular shape and the windows along the walls were the only hints that they were in a plane. Down the aisle were four cream-colored seats, two on each side facing each other, and farther back against the walls were matching leather sofas. There was even a dining area at the end, with a dark brown wooden table and four chairs. Every inch of wood shined like it had been coated with layers of gloss, and the cream leather of the seats and sofas looked and smelled brand-new. It was as though they were the first people to ever step inside.

Courtney had only seen planes in movies, and those were commercial ones. She’d had no idea they could be like this.

She had never felt so out of place, and she didn’t know what she was supposed to do next.

Savannah jumped onto one of the couches and sprawled across it, apparently not sharing Courtney’s discomfort. “This is awesome!” she said, stretching her arms above her head. “Can you believe this is happening? Limos, private planes... It doesn’t seem real.”

“And moving to a city where we know no one, to meet a father who hasn’t spoken to us in fifteen years,” Courtney reminded her, sitting on the sofa across from Savannah.

“Maybe he has a good reason,” Savannah said hopefully.

Peyton slumped into the couch with Courtney and leaned against the opposite armrest. Her torn black tights, jean shorts with the pockets hanging out of the bottom and gray striped T-shirt were out of place here, but she didn’t look a bit uncomfortable.

“Don’t be naive,” Peyton said, popping a piece of gum into her mouth. “This is nice and all, but don’t let it blind you to how our father ignored us for our whole lives. If you act impressed by his money when you meet him, he’ll think it means you forgive him. And I sure as hell don’t. It actually makes me angrier. If he has all this money, we wouldn’t have been a burden to him. He should have reached out to us before now. The only reason he didn’t is because he doesn’t give a shit about us.”

“We should remember what Grandma told us and listen to what he has to say,” Courtney said, although she’d had the same worries herself. “We have to hear his side, even though it’s hard to imagine what good excuse he could have.”

“Because he can’t have one,” Peyton sneered. “It’s impossible.”

“Nothing’s impossible,” Savannah shot back. “Stop being so negative.”

“I’m not being negative.” Peyton rolled her eyes. “Just realistic.”

“So you’re not going to give him a chance?”

“He doesn’t deserve one,” Peyton replied. “And if you’d stop freaking out because ‘Omigod, we’re in a private jet!’ then maybe you’d see that.”

Courtney looked back and forth between the two of them. If they were going to be like this when they met their father, it was going to be disastrous. Luckily a flight attendant asked them if they wanted any drinks before Savannah and Peyton could argue any more.

The captain made sure they were ready to go, and Courtney moved to a window seat, pressing her forehead against the glass. She tapped her nails against the armrest as the plane sped up, and her stomach flipped as they rose into the sky, the world below shrinking to resemble a clay model. Everything was so small that she felt like she could reach down and pluck a truck right off the road.

She still felt like she was in a dream. Less than a week ago, she was working extra shifts at Starbucks to help her mom pay rent and make sure they had enough groceries for the week. Now she was flying in a private plane to Vegas, about to meet the father she’d never known.

Things like this didn’t happen in real life.

But they were happening in hers.

chapter 3:

Even Peyton had to admit that the Las Vegas Strip was impressive from above. The mishmash of buildings along both sides of the wide street looked like it had been dropped randomly in the endless brown desert, and no two hotels looked similar. There was a shiny black pyramid, a medieval castle, matching gold-plated towers, a massive green building that reflected the sunlight and a tall one at the end that looked like the Seattle Space Needle, just to name a few.

Peyton wondered which one was her father’s.

Her father. Adrian Diamond. The owner of Diamond Resorts Worldwide.

It was completely unreal.

And it pissed Peyton off.

She clenched her fists, pressing her fingernails into her palms to release some of the anger. Someone who made zero effort to get to know his daughters had to be a horrible person. Peyton didn’t blame her mother for not accepting charity from him. Not after he married her, only for her to find out four years—and three children—later that his life was “too dangerous” to have a family and he didn’t want them around anymore. It was way messed up.

No, Peyton didn’t blame her mother at all. She admired her for it. Her mother had raised them to the best of her ability—until the constant drinking came into the picture. She’d always had an alcohol problem, but it had gotten way worse when she’d lost her secretary job a year ago. Then Peyton had had to watch her mom come home drunk every night, usually with a sleazy guy she’d picked up at a bar. She’d wanted to move out and get her own apartment—especially after one of her mom’s boyfriends kept hitting on her and trying to touch her. Peyton had told him to back off and threatened to call the cops on him if he laid a finger on her or her sisters. That had stopped him from going too far, but she’d shuddered whenever he’d looked at her, and she’d warned her sisters to never be alone with him. She’d tried to tell her mom what was going on, but her mother had just called her a slut and said she was asking for it by leading him on. Peyton couldn’t have been happier when her mom had discovered he was cheating with a young bartender and told him to get lost.

She wouldn’t have been able to get her own apartment anyway, because no one would rent to a seventeen-year-old, and while she didn’t get along with her sisters all the time, she could never leave Courtney and Savannah to handle their mother and her boyfriends alone. They needed her—especially Savannah, who didn’t know how bad things were. With Courtney always at work and Savannah at sports practice or out with her friends, it was up to Peyton to do damage control, pouring her mom’s alcohol down the sink and helping her sober up before the other two got home. Her mother yelled at her, calling her a bitch and a slut, but Peyton didn’t care. She’d learned not to take the name-calling personally, and whipping her mom into shape and cleaning the apartment before her sisters got home was her responsibility. Courtney did her part by taking extra shifts at work to pay the bills, and Savannah was too young and naive to have to deal with it.

But with her mom continuing to go downhill, Peyton couldn’t have kept it up for much longer. Maybe Adrian Diamond really did care that their living situation had gone down the tubes.

But she doubted it.

The plane landed, and another limo pulled onto the tarmac to pick them up. After thanking the captain and saying goodbye, Peyton and her sisters got into the backseat and headed off to wherever they were going.

Guess it would have been too inconvenient for their father to come to the airport to greet the daughters he hadn’t seen since they were babies. Peyton clenched her jaw, grinding her molars together. It was just more proof he didn’t care about them.

Add it to the overflowing list.

The airport was close to the Vegas Strip, and while Peyton didn’t want to like the place where her asshole of a father lived, she couldn’t help admiring the hotels as the limo drove by. Some were themed like cities—New York, Paris, Venice—while others were shiny and glitzy. One had a gigantic fountain in front of it, the bursts of water dancing to a classical number coming from invisible outdoor speakers. A crowd had gathered around the railing to watch. Even the Denny’s sign was surrounded by flashing lights. Everyone walking along the sidewalk was laughing and having fun, a lot of them sipping colorful drinks that were two feet tall. It was only the afternoon, but that didn’t seem to stop anyone from starting to party.

Or maybe they were continuing the party from the night before.

Finally the limo pulled up to two crescent-shaped gold-plated buildings standing side by side, stretching high into the sky. They had to be the tallest buildings on the Strip. Lighter shades of gold lined the tops and bottoms of every floor, eventually stopping to leave a wide space for swirling cursive writing on the top. Peyton held her hand over her forehead to shield the sunlight, squinting to make out the words. The farther building said The Diamond Hotel, and the closer one The Diamond Residences.

“Wow.” Savannah pressed her hand against the window as they pulled into the circular drive of the Residences. Limos and luxury sedans lined the curb, and wide columns surrounded the golden double doors. Two men in white suits flanked the entrance, their hands clasped in front of them, their hair gelled back so they looked nearly identical. Beside each of them stood pedestals with arrogant sphinxlike gold lions.

Peyton had never seen anything like it.

The limo stopped in front of the entrance, and one of the men opened the door on Peyton’s side. She stepped out into the stifling desert heat and breathed in the stale dry air, focusing on her physical discomfort to hide her astonishment at her surroundings. She wanted to look pissed at her father, not like she was reveling in the energy of Las Vegas.

Before she could take another step, an elderly man—also in a white suit—approached them. He had wrinkled skin, wispy gray hair, and thin lips that looked like they were permanently pressed together. Surely he couldn’t be their father. Peyton didn’t think Adrian Diamond would be so...old. Then she caught sight of the gold badge pinned to his suit. Unless Adrian had changed his name to Bernard, this man wasn’t him.

Peyton exhaled and crossed her arms. Her father hadn’t bothered to meet them at the airport or the hotel. This was not a good start to whatever relationship Adrian Diamond planned on having with them.

If he planned on having a relationship with them at all, which she was starting to seriously doubt.

“Peyton, Courtney and Savannah Diamond?” Bernard asked, giving them a once-over. His lips pressed tighter together when he looked at Peyton. There were only four blue streaks in her hair—and they didn’t stand out much—but Peyton still got the feeling he disapproved. He probably wasn’t a fan of the Hot Topic bracelet collection up her arm, either. She shot a nasty look back at him, and he looked away, nose in the air. Hopefully everyone in Vegas wasn’t this stuck-up.

Courtney stepped forward and told him he had their identities correct. Trust Courtney to take the lead. Most people assumed that because Peyton was oldest, that made her the most responsible of the three.

How wrong they were.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Bernard said. “Mr. Diamond sends his apologies for not being able to greet you himself.”

“Sure he does,” Peyton muttered.

Her hostility only threw Bernard for a second. “I imagine you’re tired after your travels and would like to get situated in your condo,” he said, plastering a smile on his thin lips and motioning to the giant gold doors. “Please follow me.”

“What about our bags?” Courtney pointed to where their stuff was being unloaded from the car behind them.

“Don’t worry about your luggage—the bellhops will bring it up for you.” He turned on the heel of his polished black shoe and led them to the entrance, where two men pulled the doors open for them, and Peyton took her first step inside the Diamond Residences.

She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it was nothing like this. The inside of the building was magnificent to the point of being otherworldly, and it took her breath away. Marble diamond-shaped tiles lined the floor, with an occasional colorful mosaic design forming the shapes of different gems. There was greenery everywhere, brilliant ferns and trees lit up with white lights surrounding the wide path that led from the entrance to a circular bar in the center of the lobby where people milled around drinking cocktails. Just past the bar, Peyton could make out gaming tables and slot machines. Groups of people dressed in everything from bathing suit cover-ups to expensive dresses walked around, holding pool bags, drinks and shopping bags, smiling and chatting animatedly. The energy was contagious, and Peyton’s veins buzzed as she took in everything around her, but she concentrated on maintaining her outer appearance of boredom. She refused to like anything her father had created.

“The Residences Tower and the Hotel Tower are connected by a hallway, so while you’ll live in the Residences, you can go back and forth to the hotel as you please,” Bernard said, his mouth barely moving as he spoke. “Would you like a tour first, or should I show you to your condo?”

“We’ll go to the condo,” Peyton said before Courtney had time to speak. Savannah pouted, but Peyton ignored her. She didn’t want to clue in Bernard that she cared. There would be time for exploring alone later.

“If you change your mind, let me know and I’ll be happy to show you around,” Bernard said, leading them down the tree-lined path to the casino. The casino played a song of its own—slot machines dinging, chips clacking as the dealer passed them out to the players at the tables, and the chatter of people throwing down money with the hope of hitting it big. There was a faint smell of cigarette smoke, but the casino must have a great ventilation system, because it wasn’t overpowering like the smoke in the Indian casino Peyton had gone to once with her friends in San Fran. Some of the machines even spoke in happy, cartoon-sounding voices, asking people to give the game a try or coaxing them to continue playing. It was a carnival for adults. The red carpet was new and plushy, and waitresses with model bodies wearing tight, low-cut gold dresses walked around delivering drinks. A person could get lost for days in a place like this.

Peyton caught sight of a sign saying Main Elevators, but Bernard continued past it.

“I thought we were going to the condo?” she asked.

“Yes.” He didn’t look at her as he continued on. “There are separate elevators for those living on the top ten floors. Follow me.”

Special elevators. Top ten floors. Peyton felt farther away from home than ever. Everyone walking around the hotel was dressed up like they were headed somewhere special—even the bathing suit cover-ups people wore looked designer—and Peyton had never felt more out of place. She wasn’t going to change for anyone, though, so she would have to act like she didn’t notice. She never let not fitting in bother her at home, and that wasn’t going to be different now. Instead, she would see it as standing out. The thought gave her a rush of empowerment.

Once inside the elevator, Bernard stuck a shiny gold key card into a slot above the buttons and pushed Floor 75—the highest one. No wonder they needed separate elevators. They would have to constantly stop for people to get off and on otherwise.

“Here are your keys,” Bernard told them, pulling identical cards out of his pocket and handing them out. Diamond Residences was printed on them in the same swirling font Peyton had seen at the top of the building. She mumbled, “Thanks,” and shoved hers into the back pocket of her shorts.

When they reached floor 75, the elevator doors opened, and Bernard motioned them to exit before him. This hallway had thick ruby carpeting, and the paneled walls were topaz and white. Crystal chandeliers hung from above, and classical music played from invisible speakers, providing a calm atmosphere very different from the excitement below.

Bernard led the way, and Peyton and her sisters followed. “As you can see, there’s an exclusive gym here for the use of everyone living in the penthouses,” he told them, motioning to the right. “Inside are the highest-quality machines available. We also have outstanding trainers on staff who will happily work with you personally, and group fitness classes that take place in the main gym downstairs.”

Peyton looked through the glass windows that separated the hall from the gym. She never went to the gym at home. Savannah went enough for both of them, especially during sports season. Inside on an elliptical cross-trainer was a girl with straight hair so dark it was almost black. She looked around Peyton’s or Courtney’s age. Her oval-shaped face, tanned skin and cat-shaped eyes made her look like a snobby movie star. Next to her was a tall tanned guy with brown hair and dark eyes. He was cute. More than cute—he was way hotter than her own boyfriend of the month, Mike.

The thought of Mike reminded Peyton of the phone call she would have to make in the next few days to break up with him. He had to know it was coming. It was no secret that Peyton never stayed with a guy for longer than a few months, and she didn’t want to do the long-distance thing.

Trusting a guy in a different city only meant trouble.

Trying not to think about Mike, Peyton gave the guy working out a seductive smile. He either didn’t see her, or he ignored her, instead smiling at Savannah. Jerk. Savannah wrapped her arms around herself and lowered her eyes, her cheeks turning pink.

Apparently he wasn’t into Peyton’s look. Not like it bothered Peyton. There were other guys out there.

Then the dark-haired girl turned to the guy, said something to him, and laughed.

Peyton shook her head and kept walking. She had no interest in hanging out with judgmental bitches. And yes, she was referring to both the girl and the guy.

Bernard led them to the end of the hallway and stopped at a golden double-door entrance to insert the key card into the slot. “Welcome to your new home,” he said, pushing the door open and waving them inside.

chapter 4:

Madison Lockhart didn’t like the Diamond sisters already.

At least, she assumed they were the girls who had just passed by the gym. It wasn’t every day that three girls who looked alike walked around the top floor. They had to be Adrian Diamond’s daughters.

And her parents wanted her to be friends with them. So not happening. One of them looked like a total freak who had come straight off a Cirque du Soleil stage, with blue streaks in her hair, goth bracelets up her arm and so much black eyeliner that she could be on the set of Cleopatra. The petite one looked like she was trying to be fashionable but was failing miserably, and the tallest one looked like she had just rolled out of bed.

“Two of them are hot,” Damien said from the elliptical next to her.

Madison tried not to show her irritation. “I didn’t know you were into blondes,” she said smoothly.

“You’re right. I do prefer brunettes,” Damien said with a sly grin. “But seeing as my favorite brunette always has her sights elsewhere, I’ve gotta have my fun, too.”

“And you think those girls look fun?” Madison rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

Damien smirked. “Are you...jealous?”

“No.” Jealous because Damien thought those girls were hot? Yeah, right. “But the one with the blue streaks seemed like she liked you. Maybe you should go for her.”

“The little one was more my type,” Damien answered. “And she looked the most innocent. Which makes her the most interesting.”

“Whatever,” Madison said again, focusing on the screen in front of her. She’d burned 150 calories working out, and she’d eaten about 400 so far that day, which equaled a net of 250. If she was careful during dinner she should be able to stay under her maximum calorie goal of 800 a day. She would have to watch what she drank tonight, as well. Alcohol had calories, too—about 100 calories per glass of wine, to be exact. Not that Madison liked being wasted. Acting like an idiot and doing things she would regret wasn’t her style.

She upped the incline of her workout, the muscles in her legs burning, and grabbed the bottle of ice water in her cup holder to take a sip. Damien watched her every movement. Their flirting was always playful, but Madison suspected if she wanted to take their friendship to the next level, he would jump on the opportunity. He was probably saying that stuff about the Diamond sisters to make her jealous.

The explanation satisfied Madison. No way would she let his comments affect her. Besides, at least having Damien around didn’t make her feel as terrible about Brett Carmel’s rejection a few weeks ago.

Her feelings for Brett didn’t make any sense. Her friends thought he was a major loser. They were right, but ever since she’d tutored him in biology last semester, she’d known he was different. His deep forest-green eyes always made him appear to be thinking about something important, and while she would never admit it to anyone, she was intrigued by the way he blew off everyone at Goodman to hang out with his public-school friends. He was always talking about an indie movie or local band they were going to see—activities that Madison’s friends would never dream of attending. It was like a foreign world, and hearing Brett talk about it made her curious about what it would be like to not worry about being photographed in the same outfit in too short a time span, or to not feel like she had to constantly entertain the people around her. She had mastered maintaining a perfect balance of being exciting, funny, charming, confident, inclusive to her friends, and exclusive to those who couldn’t keep up with them. She loved having that control, but it did get exhausting at times.

Before meeting Brett, she never would have considered going for an outsider like him. But the way he’d looked at her two weeks ago at Myst when they’d made out for practically the entire night—it was like he’d really cared about her. Like he’d thought there was a possibility of more between them.

Then again, he’d been drinking that night. The next day he’d told her he wasn’t interested in her as more than a friend, since they had too many differences to make it work, and that they should go back to the way things were before.

Too bad Madison didn’t agree. How could he ignore the chemistry between them? His resistance only made her want him more, and he would be at Myst tonight, so Madison would find a way to capture his attention.

Energized by her determination, she picked up her speed on the elliptical. She’d never had a problem getting guys to notice her. Why should it be different with Brett?

“Madison?” Damien’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

She tried to push Brett from her mind. “Yeah?” she said, doing her best to look cheery.

“You seem upset. What’s going on?” Damien’s face softened, and Madison’s heart twisted in guilt. Why couldn’t she want him instead of Brett?

“Nothing.” She smiled and shook her head, making sure to appear untroubled. “Just figuring out what to wear to the Fourth of July party tonight.”

“Very deep thoughts.” Damien chuckled, his eyes roaming up and down her body. “You’ll look great in whatever you pick. You could wear what you’re wearing now and you would still be the hottest girl there.”

Madison glanced at her gym clothes and scrunched her perfect ski-slope nose in a way she knew looked cute. Okay, she was more than aware that the tight black shorts and pink sports bra showed off her curves. And she totally wore stuff like that when she worked out with Damien because she liked catching him admiring her. But she would never wear it to a party—especially not one at Myst. She needed to stand out in a good way. No guy she was interested in had ever turned her down, and she wouldn’t let Brett be the first.

Damien slowed his machine and came to a stop.

“Ending your workout early?” she asked.

He picked up a towel and wiped sweat from his forehead, messing up his dark hair. “The Diamond sisters are most likely in their condo right now,” he said. “I might as well stop by and introduce myself. See if they want a tour of the building...”

Madison’s grip tightened around the handles of the elliptical. Why was she getting upset about Damien’s interest in those girls? Damien went from girl to girl all the time, and she had never given it a second thought. No matter what girl he was with, he’d made it clear he would drop them if Madison wanted to take their friendship to the next level. Which she didn’t. So she had nothing to be jealous about.

But something about those Diamond girls bothered her.

“Want to come with me?” Damien asked. “I’m sure they’d love to meet you.” He shot her the smile that made most girls fall all over him, but Madison wouldn’t be falling all over Damien anytime soon. Or ever.

“No, thanks.” She brushed off the invitation, acting like she didn’t care. She shouldn’t care. She was prettier than those girls, and he was only trying to make her jealous. So much for her mom telling her to be welcoming to them. It technically wasn’t fair to dislike someone before meeting them, but Madison didn’t want to get to know the Diamond girls, and she wasn’t going to pretend otherwise. “I have fifteen minutes left on my workout. Then I have to get ready for tonight. You’re still coming to dinner with our friends before the party, right?”

“Our friends” was the term coined by Madison for anyone important at Goodman—at least when the people in her group used it.

Damien swung the towel around his neck, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he backed up to the doors. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

www.campusbuzz.com

High Schools > Nevada > Las Vegas > The Goodman School

Fourth of July party at Myst

Posted on Monday 07/04 at 03:40 PM

If you’re like me, then you’re going to the Fourth of July party at Myst tonight. With access to the VIP floor on the third level, obvii. (But the pool on the first floor is always fun. Especially with the caves that you can swim into if you want some private time with one other person, if you know what I mean).

Basically, if you go to Goodman, you should be there tonight. Everyone else will be.

Cya in a few!

1: Posted on Monday 07/04 at 04:06 PM

I think the new girls will be there tonight, too. The Diamond sisters. Rumor has it they arrived in the Diamond Jet this afternoon and were seen in the hotel lobby gazing around the place like they’ve never seen a casino in their life.

2: Posted on Monday 07/04 at 04:32 PM

That’s cause they’re from some hick town. They’re probably losers. Don’t get too excited about them.

3: Posted on Monday 07/04 at 05:40 PM

hick town or not, i hear they’re HOT!!!!

chapter 5:

Is this actually happening?

That was the first thing Savannah thought when she stepped through the golden double doors into the condo. Her condo. Her breath caught in her chest at the realization that this was where she would be living for the rest of the summer. It was unreal; a palace in the sky, the type of place Savannah saw in magazines but never imagined seeing in real life, let alone living in. Marble floors, mirrored walls, shining tables, sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bustling Strip—and that was just what she could see from the entrance.

That, and a round glass-topped table in the middle of the foyer with a crystal bowl on it. Inside the bowl was a note surrounded by three black credit cards, like petals on a flower.

“Mr. Diamond left a message for you.” Bernard motioned toward the bowl. “If you don’t need anything else, I’ll be going back downstairs. Your luggage will be up shortly, and there’s a butler button on your phone if you need to reach me. I’m happy to assist you in any way necessary.”

Bernard was their butler? This was beyond awesome. She wasn’t sure why she would need to call a butler, but she would have to find a reason to do so soon. Something that cool couldn’t go unused.

“Okay,” Savannah said, pretending to be the type of person who called butlers all the time. She didn’t want him to think she was unsophisticated. “Will do! Thanks, Bernard.”

The second Bernard left, Savannah hurried to the table, snatched up the envelope and opened it. This was the first piece of communication they’d ever had from their father. Her heart pounded. Of course, she was more looking forward to meeting him in person, but this was better than nothing.

Her sisters gathered around her, and she unfolded the letter, admiring the elegant script and reading out loud:

“Dear Peyton, Courtney and Savannah,

I’m sorry I wasn’t able to greet you upon your arrival. I had an urgent meeting, and I don’t know how long it’s going to run. I will be by as soon as it is over.

We will be going to dinner tonight at 7:30 p.m. before the Fourth of July party at Myst in the hotel, so please use this time to get ready. I am sure you have much unpacking and settling in to do. In case you need to reach me, my personal cell number is (702) 555-2688. I live next door in condo 7500, so this one is your own. I hope you find it to your liking.

Sincerely,

Adrian Diamond

PS: The credit cards are yours. Feel free to use them for whatever you would like.”

Savannah frowned and placed the letter down on the table. It wasn’t the warm greeting she’d hoped for, but at least he’d promised he would be by soon. Her head spun at the notion that she would be meeting her father today—and that he was the Adrian Diamond. This had to be a dream, or a parallel universe, or something fantastical. If it were a dream, she was determined to enjoy it until she woke up.

Noticing the black American Express cards again, she picked up the one with her name on its bottom-left corner. Was this for real? She’d heard of these before, because famous people had them, and now she was holding one with her name on it. The card was cool against her skin, like it was made out of metal instead of plastic, and it was thick and heavy, so it didn’t bend like a normal credit card. Would it even slide through a swipe machine? She hit it against her palm, surprised by the echo of the metal. Rock-solid, it felt indestructible.

“I wonder what the limit is on these,” Courtney mused, picking up hers and examining the back.

“Limit?” Savannah threw her hair over her shoulder and held the card up higher, admiring how it gleamed under the light. “We flew here on a private jet. I doubt there’s a limit.”

Courtney pressed her lips together, as if Savannah had said something wrong. “Maybe not, but no matter what the limit is, it’s not our money. We’ll ask Adrian about our budget once he gets here.”

Leave it to Courtney to suck the fun out of the situation. If she couldn’t see the possibilities in an unlimited credit card, maybe Peyton could. But Peyton’s blue eyes looked like they were about to burst into flames.

“All it takes is a stupid credit card and a dumb letter, and you’ve forgotten how Adrian has ignored us until now.” Peyton stomped to a small trash can and dropped her card inside. It hit the metal with a resounding clang. “He hasn’t even bothered to meet us yet. I won’t take his bribe money—I have more dignity than that.”

Whatever that meant. Savannah exhaled, rescued the card from the trash (luckily it was the only thing in there) and slid it in her back pocket so Peyton couldn’t try to toss it again. Peyton and Courtney were bringing everything down. She wished Evie were here. Unlike Courtney and Peyton, Evie would see the potential in what she could buy with an unlimited credit card.

Savannah ran her thumbs over the raised lettering on her card’s metallic surface, amazed she was seeing her name on a black American Express. In his letter, Adrian had said they could use the credit cards for whatever they wanted, and Savannah planned on doing just that. Finally she could get her boring, dark blond hair highlighted, and maybe get extensions to make it thicker and prettier than Courtney’s. She could buy pigmented high-quality makeup instead of the cheap chalky stuff from the drugstore, expensive clothing from the department stores she walked through when she went to the mall but could never afford, designer sunglasses and shoes.... The list went on. She could already see herself walking down the Las Vegas Strip like a movie star or a pop singer. Everyone would stare at her as she walked by.... It would be incredible. She could also get a quality guitar to replace the beat up one with the warped neck she had now that went out of tune all the time—one with solid wood to give it rich, resonant sound, and better action to make it easier to play—like a Taylor or a Martin. Maybe she would get both, for the fun of it. Or start a collection. A new guitar could be the push she needed to bring her music to the next level.

This would be the start of a new, better Savannah Diamond. She couldn’t wait to get home once her mom was better and see the reactions from the girls on the volleyball team, and from the guys in school. Finally, Savannah would be noticed.

Then she remembered the idea she’d had while reading Adrian’s note.

Gripping the card, Savannah rushed down the hallway. Her sisters hurried behind her, Courtney asking where she was off to so fast. The two doors on the left were close together, and she opened both of them.

Both bedrooms were the same size, so they weren’t what she was looking for. She rushed back down the hallway and through the living area, past a sleek wooden dining set, cream-colored armchairs, a sofa in front of a gigantic flat-screen television and an eating area near the granite-countertopped kitchen. Then she arrived at the carved white-wooden double doors at the far end of the condo.

Savannah flung open the doors and raised a fist in victory. The huge bedroom had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Strip, allowing beams of sunlight to stream inside, and it was enormous—bigger than the entire apartment she’d shared with her mom and sisters in Fairfield. She ran across the plush carpeting and jumped onto the king-size bed, the white comforter cushioning her fall, so soft that she sank right into it. She stretched her arms over her head and leaned back into the mountain of pillows stacked in front of the headboard. A white vanity backed against the wall—perfect for doing makeup—and across from the bed stood a glass table with two cream-colored chairs facing a flat-screen television. Mirrors separated by white wooden panels covered the interior walls, and Savannah looked over her shoulder to smile at her reflection.

“I guess you’re claiming this room?” Courtney asked from the doorway.

Savannah sank deeper into the pillows, enjoying the feeling of the silk against her skin. “I found it first,” she declared, staring dreamily up at the ceiling. A crystal chandelier hung in the center, the lights sparkling everywhere, and Savannah felt like a modern princess. Still, she checked to see if Courtney looked upset. Savannah wanted to keep this room—and she had a feeling her sisters would let her—but she didn’t want Courtney to be unhappy about it. Most people didn’t know when Courtney was mad, since she didn’t scream or lose her temper, but Savannah could always tell because she got withdrawn and more polite than usual.

“I don’t mind,” Courtney assured her, and Savannah could tell by her genuine tone that she honestly wasn’t upset. “I don’t have enough stuff to fill one of the other rooms up, let alone this one. And each room has a private bathroom.”

“Private bathrooms?” Savannah’s eyes widened. “Finally! Now I won’t get yelled at to hurry up in the morning.”

“I never yell at you,” Courtney said.

“Peyton does,” Savannah said, thinking of how Peyton banged on the door of the shared bathroom in their apartment and screamed at her to get out when she wasn’t halfway done getting ready. “But now she won’t have to.”

Peyton joined Courtney in the doorway. “I only yell because you use my makeup,” she said, leaning against the wall and snapping her gum. “Not that it matters, since I plan on getting out of here as soon as I can, but you can have this room. None of us need this much space. We won’t have enough stuff to fill the smaller rooms, let alone this one.”

Savannah ignored Peyton’s comment about “getting out of here”—it was just Peyton being stubborn, and Grandma had made it clear they had to stay with their father until Mom was better. She felt guilty for rushing to claim the master bedroom knowing her sisters would have given it to her if she’d asked, but the doorbell rang before she could apologize.

She sat up quickly, the world blurring. Was it Adrian? His note said he wouldn’t be done with his meeting until they finished unpacking, but maybe the meeting hadn’t taken as long as he’d expected. Her stomach flipped, and she looked at her sisters in panic. Could they be about to meet their father? Was she ready to meet her father? She had no idea what she was supposed to do, or what she should say. She wished more than anything her mom or grandma were there to help.

“We should get that.” Courtney’s face paled, her voice so calm that Savannah knew she must be freaking out inside. At least the three of them had each other. They would get through this together.

“What joy,” Peyton huffed, and rolled her eyes. “We get to meet the jerk who screwed us—and Mom—over for our whole lives. This will be enlightening.” Her sarcasm made it clear she thought it would be anything but.

“We should at least listen to what he has to say,” Savannah said, standing up and straightening her shirt. Her body tingled with nerves to the point that she felt like her blood was about to burst out of her skin. Needing to do something with her hands, she ran them through her hair to brush out the tangles. She could do this. Satisfied with her reflection, she marched past her sisters and pulled the front door open.

Standing in front of her was the hot guy she’d seen at the gym. His dark brown hair was messed up in a sexy “just finished working out” way, his black T-shirt clung to his defined abs and his tanned skin glowed as if he spent every day lounging around a pool.

Savannah’s arm dropped to her side, and she stared up at him, speechless. What was he doing here? She’d never had a superhot guy show up at her doorstep. She had no idea what to say to him. If Evie were here, she would come up with something perfect. But she would also take the attention away from Savannah. The tough part about having Evie as a best friend was that they always liked the same guys. And then the guys liked Evie more than Savannah, so Savannah got stuck with the second choice.

This move to Vegas might be the perfect chance to break away from Evie’s shadow. Could Savannah become a different—improved—version of herself just from wanting to?

She wouldn’t know if she didn’t try.

“Who are you?” Peyton narrowed her eyes at the guy and snapped her gum. Of course she had to steal the attention by talking to the hot guy first.

“Damien Sanders,” he replied, barely looking at Peyton before turning back to Savannah. Her heart jumped—maybe all wasn’t lost. “I live on the floor below yours, and noticed you walking by while I was working out in the gym. I didn’t know if you knew anyone here yet, so I figured I would stop over and introduce myself.”

Wow. Not only was he hot, but he was supernice, too.

“No, we don’t know anyone here yet,” Savannah answered, her words coming out faster than she intended. Evie said she always knew when Savannah was nervous because she turned into a talking chipmunk. She took a breath and forced herself to slow down. “Except for you now. We just got here today—we moved here to stay with our dad for a while. I’m Savannah.”

Damien leaned lazily against the door frame. “So you’re the infamous Diamond sisters?”

“Infamous?” Savannah asked. “I’m one of the Diamond sisters, but I didn’t know we were infamous.”

“I’m kidding.” He laughed. “There’s just been some talk about you three, and everyone’s been curious to meet you.”

“Oh, okay.” Savannah knew Adrian Diamond was well-known, but she hadn’t realized that meant people would talk about her and her sisters, too. “Who’s everyone?”

“Just some of us who go to the Goodman School,” he said. “A few of us live here and in nearby condos. Your dad made a donation for the school’s new sports center, and the talk is you’ll be attending in the fall.”

Savannah had hoped her mom would get better before the end of summer so she wouldn’t have to start her sophomore year with total strangers. She bit her lower lip, trying to figure out how to reply in a way that wouldn’t make her sound clueless. “We haven’t talked with our dad about school yet.”

Well, they hadn’t talked to their dad at all yet, but Damien didn’t have to know that. And Savannah hadn’t realized that donations—or any payments—were necessary to go to school. At Fairfield High, new kids just signed up on their first day.

“Too bad,” Damien said. “You’ll have to let me know when you find out. But you’ll be at the Fourth of July party at Myst tonight, right?”

“Yes.” Savannah breathed a sigh of relief at the mention of something she knew a little bit about. That was the place Adrian had mentioned in his note. “Have you been there before?”

“Been there before...” He repeated her question, lingering on every syllable. “Of course I’ve been there before. It’s the hottest new club on the Strip. And it’s the best, just like everything else at the Diamond.”

“Then I can’t wait to check it out tonight,” she said, proud of how cool and collected she sounded. Maybe just being in Vegas would shape her into the Savannah Diamond she dreamed of becoming. Perhaps a talent agent would discover her, and then her dreams of being a pop star would come true.

“You’ll have fun.” He sounded confident, like it was impossible for her to not enjoy herself. “A bunch of us are going to dinner before the party. You three should come.”

“We can’t.” Peyton crossed her arms and glared at Damien, as if he were doing something to seriously piss her off. What was her problem?

Damien ignored her and turned back to Savannah.

“We already have dinner plans with our dad,” Savannah explained, the word dad feeling alien coming from her lips. “Otherwise I would go. But we’ll be at Myst afterwards.”

“I’ll find you there, then,” he said. “My friends and I will be on the third floor—it’s VIP—but I’m sure that’s where you’ll be, too.”

“Right.” Savannah tried to act unfazed, even though she’d never been VIP for anything before. But obviously they would be VIP here, since Adrian—their dad—owned the building. Well, buildings. “Does the club let everyone in? I’m not eighteen yet, so I hope that won’t be a problem....”

“Not eighteen?” Damien faked disbelief in a fun, joking way to let her know he’d already figured that out. “Really?”

“Really.” Savannah laughed. “I’m fifteen.”

“And the rest of you?” He looked at Courtney and Peyton.

“Sixteen,” Courtney answered, sounding like she wanted to be anywhere but here. Savannah wished she could at least pretend to be interested.

“And you?” he asked Peyton.

“Nineteen,” she lied, crossing her arms and giving Damien a stare of death, as if she were daring him to contradict her. Damien didn’t bother. Instead he looked back at Savannah, his eyes gleaming with the knowledge that Peyton was lying.

Savannah couldn’t believe the attention he was giving her. “She’s seventeen,” she whispered conspiratorially.

“Same as me,” Damien said. “But thanks for the honesty. I like that in a girl.” He paused to let the words sink in, and continued, “You’re supposed to be over twenty-one to get into the club, but if you’re on the VIP list they won’t bother you. Which you will be.”

“Okay.” Savannah couldn’t stop smiling. Being around Damien made her feel like she’d downed a venti cappuccino. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

“It was nice meeting you.” Damien flashed her one last grin before turning to walk down the hall. Savannah thought he was going to leave it at that, but then he called over his shoulder, “I’ll see you tonight.”

She waved to him and closed the door. After it was shut she leaned against it and smiled, her heart beating so fast that she could float away from happiness. He was the hottest guy she’d ever met—and it seemed like he was interested in her. Not Courtney, who was tall and gorgeous even when she didn’t wear makeup, or Peyton, who was fearless and not afraid to speak her mind. She might have even sounded sophisticated when she talked to him, as if hot guys invited her to VIP parties at trendy nightclubs all the time.

The day couldn’t get more amazing than this.

chapter 6:

A bellboy had dropped off their bags after they’d finished talking to Damien, and Courtney now stood in front of the full-length mirror in her room, frowning. What should she wear when meeting her father? Her jeans and T-shirts didn’t fit in with everything she’d seen in Vegas so far, which was loud, flashy and sparkly. Meaning the opposite of Courtney. She had only three dresses—the ones she wore to church before her mom had started drinking so much that she was too hungover on Sunday morning to drive them. Hopefully one of those would be acceptable to wear to dinner. The nicest restaurants she’d been to were Applebee’s and Macaroni Grill, and she suspected the ones in the Diamond were a few steps above those.

She took off the flowery blue dress and replaced it with a pink one that had white lace on the top and bottom. She normally wore this dress with a jacket, and the spaghetti straps made it the most revealing one she owned even though it fell two inches above her knee.

Would it be acceptable to wear to a fancy dinner and a club in Las Vegas? She had no idea. But she did know that her flip-flops weren’t going to fly. Flip-flops were pretty much all she owned, though. She was already taller than most of the guys in her grade, so wearing heels made her feel like a clumsy giraffe. Then there was the practical issue that heels hurt. It didn’t make sense to wear shoes that blistered her feet when flip-flops were a more comfortable solution.

She studied her reflection and sighed. No way did she look ready to go to a fancy dinner. She needed Savannah’s help. Savannah studied fashion magazines and was great at finding similar-looking items for practical prices.

She headed to Savannah’s room for advice, amazed at the magnificence of the condo as she walked through it. Was this real? She felt like an intruder, unable to shake the feeling that the actual person who lived there would walk in at any second and ask her what she thought she was doing snooping around somewhere she didn’t belong.

In their apartment in California, the furniture had been crammed together, the rooms dark and dreary. Here, the windows overlooking the Las Vegas Strip let in tons of sun, the ceilings were fifteen feet high and everything inside sparkled like it was brand-new. It was so airy and spacious, with furniture that looked too expensive to use without worrying about messing it up. She couldn’t believe she would be living here. That she was living here.

Then she realized she was acting like Savannah—so enamored with their new life that she could forget everything she’d left behind. Hopefully their mother was doing well in rehab. Her throat tightened at the thought. She missed the days before her mom had started drinking all the time. She remembered one Saturday night in particular, when their mom had stayed up with them for hours watching a DVD of Savannah’s favorite CW television show. They’d ordered in pizza, and their mom had used her curling iron to style their hair, pinning them into elaborate updos they could have worn to prom.

Their mom had always drunk more than other people’s parents, but before she’d lost her job, she’d managed to go a few days at a time without getting trashed. That’s when they would have fun nights like that, when they felt like a normal family. But that had stopped in the past year. As their mom’s drinking spiraled, it had made her look sick on the outside, too—she’d gained weight, her eyes, which used to be bright blue, became glassy and bloodshot with puffy dark circles beneath them, the skin on her face had turned wrinkly and red and her dark blond hair had become dull and limp. As hard as it was, Courtney knew rehab was the best choice. Once their mom got better, they would have that other woman in their lives all the time—the one who watched TV with them and fixed their hair like they were about to attend a magnificent ball. If that were possible, it was worth enduring a few weeks, or even months, in Las Vegas.

Courtney blinked away tears and knocked on Savannah’s door. The radio blared from inside, and Savannah was singing along, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She had a beautiful voice—it was too bad she was terrified to sing in public. Her dreams of being a famous singer would never come true if she didn’t get over her stage fright. But no matter how much Courtney encouraged her by complimenting her talent, Savannah insisted she was only saying those things because she was her sister.

“Come in!” Savannah yelled, lowering the volume as Courtney walked inside.

Savannah stood in front of the mirrored wall, admiring the flowy aqua dress she had on, which was short enough to be a long shirt. The high waistband reminded Courtney of the style popular in the Regency era, and the V-neckline dropped low, but not so low that it looked inappropriate on a fifteen-year-old. Not that Savannah had much in the upper region to show off.

“Hey,” Savannah said, as she attempted to tease her hair. “I wish we had time to go shopping before dinner—I had the hardest time picking out what to wear tonight. I can’t wait to get a new wardrobe.”

“What about the stuff you like?” Courtney asked. “You’re not going to get rid of it, are you?”

“I’ll find stuff I like better.” Savannah plucked a tube of pink lip gloss from her vanity and leaned closer to the mirror to apply it. “Now that we can buy what we want, it doesn’t make sense to shop at big discount stores anymore. It’ll be great to get real designer clothes instead of imitations.”

Courtney didn’t like how Savannah was so willing to leave her old life behind. “I can help you go through your clothes so you can decide what to keep,” she suggested, since Savannah wouldn’t get through such a meticulous task without Courtney sitting by her side to keep her focused. “Then we’ll find the local Goodwill and donate what you don’t want.”

“Good idea,” Savannah said. “Let’s go shopping this week, and when we’re done you can help me sort through my stuff.”

Courtney nodded, although she hoped Savannah wasn’t going to go too crazy with buying things. Then she remembered why she was here. “Do you think this looks okay?” she asked, motioning to her dress. “I usually wear it with a sweater.”

Savannah stepped back and examined Courtney’s outfit, raising her index finger to her chin like this was the most important assessment in the world. “It’s fine, and you definitely don’t need the sweater,” she finally said. “We’re going to dinner in Vegas—not church at home. And flip-flops? Really? Please tell me you weren’t actually thinking of wearing those. I’ll find something else.” She ran to Courtney’s room, coming back a minute later holding the pair of shiny white pumps she’d forced Courtney to buy at a clearance sale at Payless last year. Courtney had tossed them into the back of her closet, so they were still brand-new. “These would be much better.”

Courtney put them on and looked into the mirror. She hated the extra height, but Savannah was right. The white pumps transformed the dress. “I guess it does make a big difference,” she said, practicing walking a few unsteady steps. Hopefully her feet wouldn’t be covered in blisters by the end of the night.

“More than that!” Savannah insisted. “It makes you look like a supermodel. Anyway, what’d you think of Damien? He’s hot, right?”

Courtney shivered at the memory of the conversation they’d had with him earlier. They hadn’t talked with him for long, but she’d gotten a bad vibe from him. He seemed too...smooth. It was rare for someone that attractive and overconfident to have good intentions. Courtney wasn’t an expert with guys—she’d never had a boyfriend—but the way he’d eyed Savannah when he’d mentioned seeing her tonight unnerved her. She didn’t want Savannah getting in over her head with him.

“He’s attractive,” she said. “But you need to be careful. The guys here aren’t like the ones in Fairfield.”

“What do you mean?” Savannah asked.

“There’s just something about him I don’t trust.”

“Well, I thought he seemed nice.” Savannah picked up her straightener from the vanity and ran it through her hair. “And you don’t know him, so it isn’t fair of you to judge him.”

“It’s just a vibe I got,” Courtney said.

“You and your vibes.” Savannah rolled her eyes. “But he seemed into me, right?”

“He was giving you more attention than Peyton or me,” she said truthfully.

“Good,” Savannah said. “I thought so, too, but I wanted to make sure. I hope he doesn’t have a girlfriend. But it didn’t seem like it from the way he was talking to us. I mean, he was practically asking me out. Don’t you think?”

The doorbell rang before Courtney could respond. She’d have to deal with Savannah’s infatuation with Damien later—preferably after she gathered more evidence of how he was not the type of guy that Savannah, or any girl with self-respect, should swoon over.

“Omigod.” Savannah dropped the straightener down on the vanity, her eyes wide as she looked at Courtney in the mirror. “That has to be him.”

Courtney’s stomach swirled, the morning’s anxiety returning. She wrapped her arms around herself and took a few deep breaths to calm down. It didn’t work. She felt more nervous than ever.

“You ready?” she asked.

Savannah nodded, and together, they gathered enough courage to walk out of the room. Courtney wanted to grab her sister’s hand for support, but she didn’t want to seem like she couldn’t handle the situation and was panicking about meeting her father.

Her father. It sounded so strange.

Peyton walked into the foyer at the same time as Courtney and Savannah. She was wearing one of her signature “going out” outfits—a short leather skirt, a tight black tank and stiletto knee-high boots. Normally Courtney would suggest she put on a jacket to make the outfit less provocative, but now they had something bigger to worry about. The three of them looked at each other, and Courtney knew the wide-eyed anxiety and straight-lipped worry on her sisters’ faces were mirrored on her own. Their lives were about to change forever, and she didn’t feel close to ready.

She stepped forward to open the door, but the handle moved before she got a chance, and it swung open.

A man walked through, and there was no doubt he was their father. His medium blond hair was clean-cut, and his eyes were the same blue as theirs. And he was tall. The navy suit he wore and his strong, high cheekbones made him look like an aristocrat from an old movie who knew what he wanted and the right way to get it.

“Peyton, Courtney, and Savannah,” he said, looking at each of them as he said their names. “Did I get it right?”

Courtney nodded, unsure how to reply. “Hi” felt too casual. Her mouth went dry, and she swallowed again, trying to think of something to say.

“You all look just like your pictures.” He glanced at the table in the foyer and ran his fingers over the glass surface. “I see you got your credit cards. Good. Have fun with them, but don’t do anything too extreme.” He walked through the foyer, his black leather shoes tapping against the marble floor. “I’m Adrian Diamond.” He cleared his throat. “Your father. Although I suppose you’ve figured that out already.” He laughed, but it wasn’t enough to take away the heavy awkwardness in the air. “Welcome to your new home. I trust everything is to your liking?”

Courtney had a million things she wanted to say to him, but she felt useless. It was like the world was spinning out of control, and she couldn’t figure out how to make it steady again.

“We did get our credit cards.” Peyton stared him down. “And then I threw mine in the trash.”

“Really?” Adrian actually chuckled, even though Peyton was still giving him a hate-glare. “Why would you do that?”

“She didn’t really throw it in the trash,” Savannah chimed in. “Well, she did, but nothing else was in there and I rescued it.”

“Good to know.” He still had an amused smile on his face, which Courtney guessed wasn’t the reaction Peyton had been expecting. “If you don’t want your credit card, that’s your choice—I don’t mind if you toss it in the back of a drawer in your room—but they can’t be thrown away due to security reasons.”

Peyton set her jaw and didn’t respond.

“It was kind of you to give them to us.” It was the best thing Courtney could think to add to the conversation. “We’ll use them as responsibly as possible, and only for emergencies.”

“That’s very mature of you, Courtney,” he said, and while she shouldn’t have wanted to earn the respect of the man who had abandoned her and her sisters, she felt proud of his approval. “But you can use your credit card for whatever you’d like—as long as you don’t do anything too extreme, like buy a yacht or charter the jet around the world. You’ll have to ask permission before doing anything like that. But most everything else—shopping, food, spa days or whatever else you want—is fair game.”

Courtney wrapped her arms around her stomach, unable to meet his eyes. She knew she should thank him, but this huge gift made her feel as if all the money she’d worked for around the clock over the years meant nothing now. All that time she’d slaved away mixing coffee drinks for minimum wage felt demeaned knowing that Adrian could have just handed her an unlimited credit card. A lump formed in her throat at the thought that it had all been for nothing, and she swallowed it away. That work wasn’t for nothing. She’d earned that money through her own means to help out her family. She would always be proud of that.

“So I can get a designer tote bag for school?” Savannah asked. Courtney wanted to tell her not to take Adrian’s generosity for granted, but she was glad the attention had shifted from her. “And designer sunglasses, and clothes and shoes?”

He smiled at her enthusiasm. “I know someone who will be more than happy to shop with you for whatever’s going to be popular next season,” he said, a knowing glint in his eyes. “But aside from that, we have a lot to discuss. I was sorry to hear about your mother.” He paused and glanced out the window, his thoughts seeming far away, as if he were remembering a time long past. Then he refocused and returned his gaze to Courtney and her sisters. “I didn’t know just how rough this past year has been on the three of you until your grandmother informed me. I’m sorry you had to go through what you did.”

“Why did you wait until now to do something?” Peyton crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him.

“I knew things were bad, but I wasn’t made aware of the extent of it until your grandmother called me,” he said. “After the divorce your mother forbade her to contact me, but I suppose that, given the circumstances, she decided to take charge. She always was a spirited one. I suppose that’s where you get it from.”

“I don’t mean months ago.” Peyton ignored his semicompliment. “I mean for our whole lives. We didn’t know if you were alive until now! And now we find out that you’re....” She paused, as if searching for the right words to describe him. “Well, that you’re you.”

“Mom always said you were bad news.... She let us think you were a homeless drug dealer or something,” Savannah added. “Why would she want to keep us away from all of this?” She motioned around the condo to show what she meant.

“Your mother never approved of the three of you growing up in this environment,” Adrian said thoughtfully. “And I didn’t disagree with her. The Las Vegas Strip is not the...safest place to raise children.”

“Couldn’t you have moved?” Courtney finally found her voice. “So you could be near us?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s best for my business if I live here.”

“And your business is more important than your daughters,” Peyton said.

“Some parts of my business are dangerous no matter where I live, especially for those close to me,” he said with what Courtney could have sworn was resentment. “But we’re already ten minutes late for our dinner reservation, so I’ll go more into detail about that once we’re seated. You three have arrived on a very important day. Not only is tonight the Fourth of July party at Myst, but today I had a meeting with a colleague regarding a proposal for a beneficial partnership.” He paused to look them over again. “You’re all ready to leave?”

Courtney nodded along with her sisters and tried to smile. Didn’t Adrian care about sitting down with them privately so they could get to know each other? To explain why he’d ignored their existence for their entire lives? Instead, they were going straight out to dinner. Yes, he’d said he would explain more to them once they got to the restaurant, but Courtney hadn’t expected that discussion to take place somewhere so public. The thought of being on display like that took away any semblance of an appetite she’d had until now.

But maybe she was thinking about it wrong. Maybe he thought taking them out to dinner would be considerate. Which, she supposed, it was.

“Good,” he said. “We have a private room, so we’ll be able to talk without other people listening. I also have two people who I want you to meet. They’ve been looking forward to this, so I would appreciate it if you were on your best behavior.”

They hadn’t been here a day yet and he was already going to introduce them to people? Courtney felt nauseated at the prospect. What if she said something wrong and made a fool of herself?

“I know you might feel out of your element,” he said, “but please roll with it, and remember that I’ll answer any questions later.”

He looked at the three of them again and walked to the doors, leaving them no choice but to follow his lead.

chapter 7:

None of them spoke as Adrian led the way down the hall.

Peyton hadn’t expected him to bombard them with bear hugs, but she wasn’t prepared for him to be so formal. He was treating them like they were a business deal instead of his own daughters. He’d even laughed about her throwing the credit card in the trash. What was up with that?

After a silent, uncomfortable elevator ride, Adrian escorted them through the casino to a balconied area with two escalators curving around to the floor below. Peyton felt like she’d been dropped into an alternate universe. Huge chandeliers hung from a high circular ceiling—she guessed there were ten of them in all. They were different shapes and colors, most of them red, orange and yellow. It was like being in a cavern, with chandeliers instead of stalactites. But despite it being beautiful, Peyton made sure to look bored and uninterested. The last thing she wanted was for Adrian to think she was happy to be here.

At the bottom of the escalator, Adrian walked through an archway with the words Five Diamond Steakhouse in cursive on the top. Peyton had never been to a restaurant this fancy. White cloths covered the tables, and silk drapes fell over parts of the burgundy walls. Bronze chandeliers that looked like hanging lamps dropped down from the ceiling, their golden glow bringing the restaurant to life. Not that it needed it. Every table was occupied with people engaged in lively conversation.

The host spotted Adrian and hurried to the four of them. “Good evening, Mr. Diamond,” he said, bowing his head like Adrian was a king. “Your table is ready.”

Most of the people dining looked up at Adrian as he walked by, whispering and pointing as he passed. How many of them knew he was the owner of the hotel? Even if they didn’t, Adrian had an air about him that announced he was someone important. He greeted people as they passed, shaking hands, smiling and joking like he was best friends with everyone. Peyton could see why people liked him. Why couldn’t he act this friendly around his own daughters?

She supposed it made sense, though—dealing with teenagers wasn’t part of his job description, but making hotel guests happy was.

His “regular table” was in the back of the restaurant in the private room he’d mentioned, and the two people he’d warned them about were already seated. One of them was a guy who appeared to be around Peyton’s age, and while he wasn’t as obviously good-looking as Damien, he was attractive. His face was round, and his green eyes had a faraway look, like he was trying to distance himself from the world. He was underdressed in a T-shirt and a black hoodie, but his mom must not have cared enough to tell him to change.

At least Peyton was 99 percent sure that the woman sitting next to him was his mom. She had a young-looking face, with the same high cheekbones as the boy. She’d pulled her hair back in a bun, and the strand of large pearls around her neck gave her a regal appearance. Adrian smiled when he saw her, his eyes becoming soft and loving.

Who was this woman, and why was Adrian looking at her like she was more valuable than any diamond in the world?

“Girls,” Adrian said, “this is my fiancée, Rebecca Carmel, and her son, Brett. They’ll be joining us for dinner this evening.”

Fiancée? Peyton looked at the woman in disbelief.

Rebecca softly cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. She straightened her silverware, and Adrian rested a hand on her shoulder. Peyton couldn’t blame her for being nervous. This was an awkward situation, and Rebecca was now front and center.

“You have a fiancée?” Peyton finally said to Adrian, not caring that the doors to their private room were still open. “And you didn’t think it was important to tell us this first?”

“I didn’t want you to have any preconceived ideas about Rebecca before meeting her,” Adrian said calmly. He motioned to the doors, and the host closed them as he left their room. “Plus, I thought this conversation might be easier for the three of you with a mother figure around.”

“We already have a mother.” Peyton crossed her arms, standing her ground. “We don’t need another one.”

“Maybe we should do this another time....” Rebecca reached for her handbag, and she looked so uncomfortable that Peyton felt a little guilty for being outwardly mean to her.

“No.” Adrian put his hand on top of hers and slid into the seat at the head of the table, looking at her in what seemed like desperation. “It will be best for all of us if you stay.”

Peyton couldn’t believe it. Adrian seemed calm and collected, like he could handle anything. But could he actually be so nervous to be around them that he needed Rebecca there for emotional support?

Her stomach rumbled; the restaurant smelled like fresh bread and perfectly cooked steak, and she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. She took the seat next to Brett, which was as far away from Adrian as possible.

She placed her napkin on her lap and looked at her silverware in confusion. Why did she need two forks and two knives? And why was the spoon so small and above the plate?

“Start at the outside and work in,” Brett whispered to her. “And don’t touch the spoon until dessert.”

“Thanks.” Apparently she’d looked as confused as she’d felt.

Adrian ordered a bottle of champagne after they went through the introductions. No one mentioned that they were underage, and the waiter didn’t care. Brett didn’t seem fazed, either. Peyton accepted a glass—she was nothing like her mom and could handle her alcohol just fine—and Savannah got one, too. Courtney gave Savannah a warning look and said she was fine with water.

Peyton wondered if Courtney would ever let loose and have fun. They weren’t at home anymore—they were as far from it as possible. Not geographically, obviously, but Vegas couldn’t have been more different from Fairfield if it tried. Peyton wasn’t going to let Vegas change her, since she was fine just as she was, but it might not hurt Courtney to live a little.

“I hear you three will be attending Goodman in the fall,” Rebecca said, playing with her pearl necklace as she waited for an answer.

A pit of dread formed in Peyton’s stomach. She recognized the name of the school Damien had mentioned, but she wouldn’t be in Vegas long enough for school to start. Their mom had to get better before September.

If it ended up taking longer and she and her sisters had to do a few weeks at Goodman, no one had told them yet. Anyway, what was the big deal about the school? It wasn’t like they had an option where they would go. How different could this Goodman place be from Fairfield High?

“Yes,” Adrian said. “After I informed the headmaster that I would make a generous contribution toward the new sports center, I mentioned my three daughters were moving to town and hadn’t picked a school yet. Coincidentally, Goodman had three spots waiting to be filled.”

“How wonderful.” Rebecca beamed. Peyton wasn’t sure if she was fake or trying really hard to get them to like her. Judging by how nervous she seemed, she suspected it was the latter. “It’s the best school in the state. Brett goes there. He’ll be a junior in the fall, so he’ll be in Courtney’s year. He can introduce you to the other students this summer so you’ll know people once school begins.”

“Because you know how much I hang out with the prep school crew,” Brett said. Rebecca gave him a look that said, Stop being so insolent, but Brett just smiled and took a sip of water.

“Back up a second,” Peyton said. “Isn’t it too early to worry about school?”

“I know no one wants to think about going back to school when it’s only the beginning of July, but this was late notice,” Adrian said. “Their deadline for applications is January. Luckily for the three of you, they were able to make an exception.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Peyton clenched her fists, angry at how he played head games with his words. “If Mom’s better in a few weeks, by September we’ll be back home and at Fairfield High. We shouldn’t think about school here until we know when she’ll be out of that place.”

“Oh.” Rebecca’s face crumpled, and she looked at Adrian in question. “They don’t know yet?”

“Know what?” Courtney asked softly.

“I would have said something earlier, but my meeting ran late and we had to hurry to dinner,” Adrian said. “Plus, I thought your grandmother would have told you herself before you left....”

“Well, apparently she didn’t.” Peyton couldn’t take this anymore. “So spit it out.”

Adrian took a sip of water and cleared his throat. “Your mother is in an extremely difficult, stressful point in her life,” he said, looking seriously at each of them. “Once she’s released from inpatient treatment, she’ll have many struggles ahead while getting her life back on track. I’ve purchased your grandmother a larger house—she wasn’t happy about it, but she eventually accepted—and your mom will move in with her once she’s released. This way she’ll have your grandmother’s support while recovering. So until the end of the next school year, the three of you will be living here, with me.”

Peyton slammed her hands down on the table. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said. “This is going to be my senior year. It’s the last year I’ll have with my friends before we graduate. And now you’re saying I’ll have to spend it here, with total strangers? No way is that happening.” She checked to see if her sisters were just as pissed. Courtney’s face had gone white—she seemed shocked, not angry—and Savannah had the nerve to look excited. What the hell was wrong with them? Didn’t they also want to go home?

“You’ll be staying here for the next year.” Adrian didn’t flinch. “It’s in your mother’s best interest. I understand you’re missing home, but I hope you want to do whatever you can to help her recover. She needs to focus on herself in the upcoming months, and that’s going to be easiest for her if she doesn’t have to worry about taking care of anyone else.”

Peyton pressed her lips together, her breaths coming fast. Way for him to make them feel like an unwanted burden.

“But won’t Mom want us around?” Savannah asked with tears in her eyes. Peyton didn’t want to see her cry, but at least this was better than her being excited about staying in Vegas.

“Once she begins outpatient treatment, you’ll be able to visit her,” Adrian said. Then he got very still, as if what he was about to say was hard for him. “But, while I know this might be difficult for you to believe right now, you’re here because I want you to be here, too.”

Peyton leaned back and crossed her arms. No way would she believe that crap.

At the same time, she wanted her mom to get better, and she refused to do anything that might send her spiraling. If staying in Vegas for the year was what it took, she would tough it out and get through it. But she wouldn’t make it easy for Adrian. He hadn’t wanted them in his life until now, and she wasn’t about to smile and forgive him.

“Fine,” she said. “But Goodman isn’t a private school, is it?”

“Of course it is,” Adrian said. “Where else would you go?”

“Public school.” Peyton said the obvious response. “Like we always have.”

“The Goodman School is the best in the state,” Adrian said, like that should be reason enough.

“It might be,” Peyton replied. “But we don’t need a fancy private school. We’ve been in public school our whole lives, and it’s never been a problem.” No one said anything, so she looked at her sisters for backup. “Right?” she said, expecting support. She wouldn’t fit in with the people who went to private school, and she didn’t want to. They were probably a bunch of stuck-up snobs.

“I don’t know, Peyton,” Courtney said carefully. “It will look better on college applications if we go to a school like Goodman.”

“They have a one-hundred percent college acceptance rate,” Rebecca said proudly. “Last year a fourth of the graduating class went to an Ivy League or similar level school.”

“I’m not going to college.” Peyton smirked. “So there goes that one hundred percent.”

Worry flitted across Rebecca’s face, but Adrian didn’t look concerned. “We’ll see.” He sounded so superior, as if he knew something Peyton didn’t. It made her want to hit something.

Instead she looked at Courtney, betrayed by her sister’s reaction. “You never mentioned wanting to go to private school before,” she said.

Courtney looked down at the tablecloth. “That’s because it was never an option.”

Peyton looked at Savannah for support, but her normally talkative sister didn’t say a word. Was she the only one who hated the idea of going to school with overprivileged snobs who would have nothing in common with her?

“I’m not going to Goodman.” Peyton stood her ground. “I’ll go to the local public school instead.”

“How about we compromise?” Adrian said. “You’ll start at Goodman in the fall. If after three months it’s as awful as you imagine, we can discuss other options.”

Peyton thought about it. “One month,” she countered.

“Two months and you have a deal,” Adrian said, with a hint of a smile.

“Fine.” Peyton nodded. “Two months.” She was going to hate it no matter what, but at least being there for two months was better than the entire year.

Nobody said anything for a few seconds, and Peyton felt like she could cut the tension in the air with a steak knife. Finally the waiter walked through the French doors that led to their private dining room, a bottle of champagne in his hand. Thank God. Peyton didn’t think she could stand one more moment of sitting there with no clue what to say. It was ironic, really. She had so much she wanted to know, but no idea how to start asking her questions. Continuing to talk about their family drama in front of Brett and Rebecca would make dinner more awkward than it already was.

Then Peyton realized what she’d thought. Was she worried that something wouldn’t be appropriate to bring up at dinner? The pompous atmosphere of the hotel must be getting to her. Time to change that. She could tell attention made Rebecca uncomfortable, so she might as well start there.

“So,” she started, looking at Rebecca. “How did you two meet? I’m sure our father would have told us, but since he hasn’t bothered to be in our lives until now, we haven’t had much time to talk.” She folded her hands over the table, as though she couldn’t wait to hear the answer to her question.

“Well...” Rebecca lifted her hand to her necklace, looking at Adrian for help.

“Rebecca and I were high-school sweethearts,” Adrian said, his voice confident and strong. He reached for one of Rebecca’s hands and squeezed it. She smiled gratefully at him, and he continued. “But we didn’t go to the same college—she stayed local, while I went to the University of Pennsylvania—and our lives went in different directions. We were in other relationships when I returned to Las Vegas after graduation to invest in my first hotel. Recently we both became single again, and fate brought us back together.”

“How interesting.” Peyton lifted her glass as though making a toast, threw her head back and took a large gulp.

Rebecca reached back to touch her bun, as if a sprayed strand might be out of place. Peyton felt guilty for making Rebecca feel uneasy. She seemed nice, and it did sound like Adrian loved her. It wasn’t her fault that he was a crappy, nonexistent father who was trying to act like he hadn’t overlooked his daughters for their entire lives. The funny thing was, if Adrian and Rebecca were in high school together, that made Rebecca almost ten years older than Peyton’s mother, even though she looked much younger. All that drinking could really age a person.

“Yes,” Adrian said. “But please don’t mention the engagement to anyone. We plan on announcing it at the grand opening on Saturday night.”

Peyton looked at the packed dining room. “The hotel looks open to me.”

“This is the soft opening,” Adrian explained. “Doors opened for both the hotel and residences a month ago, and the time since then has been a test to make sure everything is running smoothly. This way we can work out any kinks ahead of time, so we know nothing will go wrong on the night of the grand opening.”

“Sounds efficient.” Peyton skimmed over the menu as Rebecca ordered her food, zeroing in on the most expensive dish on the menu. Maine lobster—seventy dollars. Perfect. That would do a good job pissing Adrian off. She wasn’t sure if she liked lobster, or how one person could eat seventy dollars’ worth of food in one sitting, but she would find out tonight.

“A fine choice,” Adrian said after she ordered. “I’ll have the same. You girls should consider it, as well,” he said, looking at Courtney and Savannah. “It’s said we have the best lobster on the Strip.”

Savannah found it on the menu, and her eyes bulged. “I guess I’ll have the lobster, too,” she said, closing the menu and handing it to the waiter.

He turned to Courtney next. “The lobster for you, as well?”

“I’m sure it’s delicious, but I’m a vegetarian,” Courtney explained. “I’ll have a Caesar salad, lightly dressed.”

Adrian had asked for a taste of everything for appetizers since “the girls should try it all,” which meant the waiter brought out two three-tiered stands of plates, each one full of food, like the appetizer version of a wedding cake. It was outrageously fancy, with pieces of what appeared to be seafood displayed like art instead of something to eat. Some of the food was still in the shells, and some had been drizzled with orange, yellow and green sauces. This was a far cry from the nachos and wings Peyton and her friends usually got at chain restaurants. She had no idea where to start.

Adrian picked up a shell with a slimy white slug-looking thing on top of it, lifted it to his mouth and tipped it downwards so the slug-thing slid out. He chewed and swallowed. “Oysters on the half-shell,” he said, motioning to the display. “Delicious.”

Curious, Peyton picked one up and lifted it to her mouth. It jiggled in the shell, all lumpy and gross. And it smelled salty, like the ocean. She wrinkled her nose. But she couldn’t back out now, no matter how nasty it looked.

Following Adrian, she tipped the shell toward her mouth and let the oyster slide out, holding her breath so the smell wouldn’t overwhelm her.

It didn’t only look like a slug, it tasted like one, too. Not that Peyton had tasted a slug before, but it was what she thought one would taste like if she had. She forced it down her throat, her eyes watering as she tried not to gag. Once she swallowed, she placed the shell back on her plate and chugged water to get the salty taste out of her mouth.

Those were supposed to be a delicacy? What were these people thinking?

“I suppose oysters aren’t to your taste?” Adrian asked. The corner of his lips twitched up, and he dabbed the side of his mouth with his napkin.

“That was disgusting,” she said, still trying to get the taste out of her mouth. She used the fork and knife closest to her plate for the rest of the appetizers—the ones that according to Brett were for the main course—but if anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything.

Next came the main course. Two and a half pounds wasn’t a huge amount of lobster, especially for being seventy dollars’ worth of food on a single plate. That much money could have fed her family for two weeks.

Savannah and Courtney had involved themselves in a conversation with Rebecca, so Peyton turned to Brett with a brilliant idea—flirt with her future stepbrother. That would surely piss Adrian off. “So, Brett,” Peyton started, using her mini-fork to get some lobster out of the claw. “Do you live here, too?”

“In the Diamond?” He cut into his steak and took a bite.

Peyton nodded. What did he think she meant—Las Vegas?

“Yeah,” he answered. “Mom and Adrian share a condo, so I have one to myself. It’s pretty sweet.”

“You have your own condo?” Peyton leaned closer to him. “You should show it to me sometime. Does it have a Jacuzzi?”

He said yes, and took another bite of his steak.

“We have a Jacuzzi in ours, too.” She batted her eyelashes conspiringly. “You should come over sometime and christen it with me.”

Okay, that was overkill, even for her. But at least it’d gotten a raised eyebrow from Adrian.

“Maybe.” Brett shifted away from her and focused on his food. She could tell she’d made him uncomfortable, and he didn’t say anything more.

She scooted back in her seat and took another bite of lobster. Brett was a total bore.

He turned to Courtney and asked if she’d thought about what colleges she wanted to apply to, since they were both going to be juniors and junior year was when the honor students worried about that stuff. Peyton, on the other hand, meant it when she said she wasn’t going to college. She wanted to get out of boring, stuffy classrooms and into the real world as soon as possible. If she ever changed her mind, she could just sign up for the community college in Fairfield.

But, of course, Courtney perked up at the mention of college plans. “Stanford,” she answered shyly. “What about you?”

“UCLA,” he said. “I’ve wanted to go there since middle school. They have great courses for people interested in careers in the movie industry, so I’m taking an Intro to Film class this summer at UNLV to get ahead and show I’ll be serious about my major.”

“Wow.” Courtney looked impressed. “I want to be an English major, because I love reading and think I would like working in publishing, but I hadn’t thought of taking a summer course. I’ve just been focusing on my grades and SAT scores so I can hopefully get a scholarship.”

“I’ve been working on the SAT this summer, too,” he said. “I have a tutor who comes to my condo twice a week, and he teaches me all these great techniques on how to ‘outsmart standardized tests.’ Maybe you could join in on our sessions.”

“I would like that.” Courtney smiled.

Brett would rather study for the SAT with Courtney than lounge in the Jacuzzi with Peyton? Whatever. She was stuck listening to their nerd-tastic conversation through the rest of the main course, and while she loved her sister and all, it was unbelievable how long Courtney could talk about school. To make it worse, the lobster wasn’t even that amazing. She would have much preferred a cheeseburger.

The busboy cleared the plates once everyone finished their meals, and the waiter approached their table again. “Dessert, coffee or tea?” he asked.

Adrian whispered to Rebecca, then turned to the waiter. “Coffee, please,” he ordered. “Black.” Then he looked at Peyton and her sisters. “Would you all care for anything?”

Savannah passed, Courtney ordered tea and Peyton got a coffee. The waiter turned to Rebecca next.

“Actually, Brett and I will be leaving now,” Rebecca said, placing her napkin down on the table.

Brett seemed confused for a second, but then he understood. After the waiter left they said their goodbyes, leaving the three of them alone with Adrian.

“Girls,” Adrian said. “I suppose we have a lot to discuss.”

That was the understatement of the past fifteen years.

“Why did you wait so long to contact us?” Peyton broke the ice.

“Has your mom ever told you why she left Las Vegas and moved back to Fairfield?” Adrian asked.

“All she’s told us was that she didn’t want us growing up around your kind of lifestyle,” Courtney said softly.

“And she was right,” Adrian said. “As I mentioned earlier, this life has its dangers.”

“What kind of dangers?” Peyton asked. Adrian Diamond had the world in the palm of his hand. What could be so bad that it would keep him away from his daughters?

“I’ll tell you now, but please listen without interrupting,” Adrian said. “You can ask questions when I’m finished.” The three of them said okay, and he continued, “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to tell you flat-out. When you were a baby, Courtney, you were kidnapped and held for ransom when your nanny was taking you out for a walk. He took the nanny’s life and said you would be next if I didn’t meet his demands. Luckily I was able to negotiate with him, and he returned you safely. Your mother and I were lucky to get you back, but it could have been worse, and we both knew it. Your mother was traumatized at the thought of what could have happened. She was already pregnant with Savannah at the time, and after such a scare, we agreed it was best for the three of you to live under the radar until you were mature enough to handle yourselves in this kind of environment. We also agreed it would be best for you to not have a connection to me, since that was what put your life in danger in the first place.”

Courtney dropped her teacup onto the plate, the clank of the china filling the room. Peyton had never seen her normally composed sister so speechless. Her heart pounded at the danger Courtney had been in, and more so at the possibility of what could have happened if Adrian hadn’t successfully negotiated with the kidnapper.

“No, Mom never mentioned that to us,” Peyton said, since Courtney clearly wasn’t ready to say anything herself. She didn’t know what she had expected Adrian to say, but it wasn’t that. And if their mom had never told them about something so important, what else could she be hiding?

Peyton couldn’t imagine the possibilities.

“Wow,” Courtney finally managed to say. She blinked a few times, then took another sip of tea, as though it could help her organize her thoughts. “Peyton’s right—she never told us that. But I guess it explains why my baby book was never as detailed as Peyton’s or Savannah’s.”

“What do you mean?” Adrian looked alarmed.

“Just that, with the kidnapping, Mom must have been so stressed that she forgot to update it,” Courtney explained. “And since we moved after it happened...she must not have had time to keep on top of it. Right?”

“Of course.” Adrian stirred his coffee, even though he was drinking it black. He looked so sad, like he was remembering something painful that he didn’t want to think about.

It was a lot to take in. On one hand, Peyton understood how scary something like that would be, and why he would feel like he was a danger to them. On the other, he was their father. He could have involved himself in some part of their lives, even if he couldn’t live in the same city.

“You could have visited,” Savannah said. “Without anyone finding out. It would have been good to know you cared about us a little.”

“I know,” Adrian said. “I made a mistake. After what happened, I threw myself into my work. Your mother didn’t want you to have anything to do with me, and I couldn’t blame her.” His eyes were glassy, as if he was genuinely upset things had turned out the way they had. Maybe he really did want to get to know them now. “Your grandmother never agreed, but it was your mother’s decision. And it was a decision I supported. I wanted to give her money to help raise the three of you, but she refused it, claiming she could take care of her family without my help. Instead, I had it put in trusts for when you’re older.”

A trust fund? Peyton didn’t know how to wrap her mind around that. “If living in Vegas is really that risky for us, then why are we safe here now?” she asked. “Yeah, we’re not babies anymore, but we’re not exactly trained in fending off kidnappers.”

“You will be kept secure at all times,” Adrian said. “I promise you that. I’ve hired professionals to protect you. You won’t even know they exist.”

“If our lives are in danger, why did you wait until now to hire them to protect us?” Peyton asked.

“The men I hire are the best,” Adrian said. “I’ve had guards keeping tabs on you for your whole lives. They dressed modestly while guarding you in California—their usual uniforms would stand out too much there—but now they’ve returned to their formal attire. I believe it’s time I introduced them to you.” He typed something on his phone. Immediately, three men stepped into the private dining room.

They were all tall, built and wearing matching black suits with Bluetooth cords attached into their right ears. But while they all wore the same outfit, they varied greatly in age. One was older, with gray hair and skin beginning to wrinkle, another looked to be a little younger than Adrian, but with dark hair and sharper features. The last one could barely be older than Peyton herself. With his blond hair cut nearly to his scalp and a sculpted body, he could easily pass for a senior on a high school football team. Surely he couldn’t have the same amount of experience as the men beside him.

“Girls, I want you to meet Carl, Teddy and Jackson,” Adrian said, pointing to each man as he said his name.

Carl was the oldest, Teddy was the one who looked Adrian’s age and Jackson was the youngest. Even his name sounded fitting for a football player. His hazel eyes met Peyton’s, his gaze strong and confident, which sent her stomach flipping. How old was he? He had to be older than her, but she doubted he could be more than twenty-five.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Courtney said, and Peyton had to press her lips together to stop from laughing. It always amused her how Courtney remained polite in the strangest situations.

“They have each been assigned to one of you personally,” Adrian said. “Carl is in charge of Savannah, Teddy is in charge of Courtney, and Jackson is in charge of Peyton. They will keep tabs on your whereabouts. They will remain invisible to you as much as possible, but since security in Vegas requires higher measures than Fairfield, you will notice their presence at times. They’ve been staying under the radar today since you were unaware of them and they didn’t want to scare you, but from now on when you leave your condo they will be in the hall, and they will accompany you in the elevators. Apart from those instances, they will mostly go unnoticed by you. This will be an adjustment, but go about your lives the same as you did before you were aware of their presence. They are not babysitters, so they will not tell me anything about your personal lives unless it is necessary for your safety.”

Adrian dismissed the bodyguards, and Peyton gave Jackson one last small smile before he left. He probably wasn’t allowed to show much emotion, especially in front of Adrian, but she thought he smiled back. While she didn’t love the idea of someone trailing her every move, Jackson was hot enough that it didn’t bother her. Maybe he even had a fun side. It would be worth finding out.

“My bodyguard can’t be much older than I am,” Peyton said, hoping Adrian would reveal his age.

“Jackson is young, but he is one of the best at what he does,” Adrian said. “He will do an excellent job keeping you safe at all times.”

Peyton was disappointed he didn’t give her an exact age, but it wasn’t a problem. Jackson would be trailing her every move. She would have many opportunities to discover that fact on her own.

“As I mentioned earlier, you’ll live here for a year and go to Goodman,” Adrian said. Peyton crossed her arms, and he added, “Or another school, if after two months at Goodman you decide it isn’t to your liking. When the year is up, you can choose where you want to go from there. I will support your decisions, as long as they are sensible. There are some rules, though.” He looked each of them in the eyes before continuing. “Since it’s summer, you don’t have a curfew—your bodyguards will keep you safe at all times—but I expect you to come home at night. Once school begins you’ll have a curfew, but we’ll discuss specifics later. I also don’t mind if you have a glass of wine with dinner, or a casual drink with friends. Despite your mother’s struggles, I allow this because it’s the way I was raised. I believe if I prohibit you from drinking, you’ll do it secretly anyway and go overboard with it, as many people your age are known to do. But if you’re caught being irresponsible with alcohol to the point where you embarrass yourself publicly, that will end.”

He paused to let that sink in, then continued, “As I told you in the condo earlier, I have no problem with you using your credit cards to buy what you please. I encourage it, since I doubt you had the privilege to do so in your previous circumstances—but there’s a catch. You may not do anything that will result in bad press for our family. We all know of some infamous hotel heiresses—no need to name names—whom I’ve had to bar from my properties for...inappropriate behavior. It’s in your best interests to remain under the radar. Use your judgment and act wisely, because gossip pages will talk about what you do. People will take pictures of you and post them on the internet. I don’t want any negative attention brought to our family. If that happens, your credit card privileges will be severely limited, and you will have an early curfew. Do you understand?”

Peyton nodded, just so he would drop the subject. She was sick of listening to this lecture. She ignored the rules at home, especially since her mom didn’t follow through with punishments, and she would continue doing whatever she wanted here, no matter what boundaries Adrian tried to place on her. She hadn’t needed an unlimited credit card in Fairfield, and she wasn’t about to become dependent on one now. Plus, no one even knew who they were.

Yet.

Adrian looked straight at Peyton, making her feel uneasy. “No negative press also means no flirting with your future stepbrother,” he said. “That line is not to be crossed.”

“I wasn’t flirting with him,” Peyton protested, glad Adrian hadn’t caught her eyeing up Jackson. She didn’t want him trying to put an end to that before it had a chance to begin. “He looked bored and I was being friendly. It wasn’t anything more.”

Adrian didn’t appear to believe her, but he dismissed the topic. “I’m glad we discussed that, but we need to go to the club. Some of your future classmates will be there. Brett will introduce you to them.” He finished his coffee and continued, “I’m sorry we didn’t have more time to get to know each other since your arrival. Things have been busy around here, and while I wish the timing was better, there will be plenty of opportunity for all that in a few days, after the grand opening for the hotel and residences on Saturday night.”

At that, he stood up to leave the steakhouse. It was time to go to Myst.

chapter 8

Madison Lockhart loved Myst. It was the most extravagant nightclub in Vegas, with its three-story waterfall cascading from the ceiling into the lagoon on the first floor. She sat with her friends in a semicircular booth on the VIP level, waiting for international DJ superstar David Guetta to hit the stage. A few people danced on the elevated lit-up platform—mainly adults who had already had a few drinks. Normally Myst drew a younger crowd, but this Fourth of July party was a special event. The fireworks show was rumored to be better than the one at Caesars Palace, and would be choreographed to David Guetta’s music. Madison couldn’t wait to see it.

She watched her parents step onto the floor and dance with each other. This was one of the few nights they both weren’t working, which was rare since her dad was the lead neurosurgeon at Sunrise Hospital and Medical Center—the best hospital in the state—where her mom also worked as an anesthesiologist. Nights when they looked this relaxed didn’t happen often.

They waved her up to join them, but Madison shook her head. That so wasn’t happening.

“I think your parents want you to dance with them,” Oliver Prescott joked from his seat next to her.

Madison rolled her eyes. She and Oliver had been best friends since elementary school, but whenever she looked at him now she was reminded of how much he’d changed in the past year. Oliver had always been good-looking, but he’d started working out over the past few months, and it showed. Every inch of his body was more defined. He’d also grown his hair out during their sophomore year, and while it wasn’t long, it looked much better than the shaved look he’d tried to pull off when they were freshmen. It brought out his dark eyes. And one thing Oliver knew how to do was use his eyes. He had the “look at a girl and make her melt” technique down perfectly. He could get any girl he wanted, and he knew it. But it didn’t matter who they were—students at UNLV or celebrities—Oliver never kept his attention on one girl for long.

Madison hoped he wouldn’t be like Damien and set his sights on the Diamond girls. That would piss her off. But while Oliver and Damien had a lot in common, Damien liked the emotional game—dating and making girls fall head over heels for him—whereas for Oliver, it was about the physical conquests. But it had never been like that between them. She wouldn’t want to risk messing up their friendship, even if she thought she could trust him in a relationship. He had also been on a gambling spree this summer, but as the son of one of the wealthiest hotel owners in Vegas, at least he could afford it.

Oliver scooted closer to her, tilting his head in concern. “Is something wrong?” he asked softly.

Why had everyone been asking her that recently? First Damien, and now Oliver. It was seriously irritating.

“Nothing’s wrong.” She brushed off the question and poured herself a glass of champagne from the bottle that came with their table. Screw the calories—she needed to relax. She would make it up tomorrow by eating less and adding more time to her workout. “Why would it be?”

Before Oliver could answer, Damien slid into the booth and swung his arm around Madison’s shoulders. His skin radiated heat, like he’d been dancing. “You look amazing,” he said, his face inches from hers. He smelled like vodka and orange juice, and Madison wondered how much he’d had.

“Thanks,” Madison said, glad she’d chosen the Shoshanna dress. She loved wearing black—not only was it slimming, but it looked best on her. This particular dress was sleeveless, so it showed off her defined collarbones, and it was short without being too short, falling to midthigh. Plus, most of the other girls were wearing red, white or blue dresses, so hers stood out.

Oliver shifted in his seat next to her, and he said something to their friend Larissa. Oliver and Larissa had an “agreement”—friends with benefits, or something like that. Madison suspected that Larissa felt more for Oliver than she let on, but he didn’t take her seriously. Which was good, since Oliver and Larissa would make a terrible couple. He deserved someone who would challenge him, and Larissa wasn’t that person.

“You look good, too,” Madison told Damien. It wasn’t a lie. Most girls at the party would have killed to be sitting so close to him. “I like this.” She brought her hand up to the thin leather necklace he had on, allowing her fingers to linger across his skin. “Is it new?”

His breathing slowed at her touch, and Madison curved her lips into a small smile. “I’ve had it for a while,” he said, bringing his hand up to rest on top of hers. “But since you like it I’ll make sure to wear it more often.”

Not wanting to stay like that for too long—she liked occasional contact with Damien, but she didn’t want to lead him on too much—she brought her hand back down to her lap and scanned the room for one person in particular.

It didn’t take long to spot Brett Carmel sitting at the bar by himself. He never was the most social guy on the planet—which was why he was so mysterious to her.

“I’m sick of this champagne,” Madison announced, placing her glass down on the table. “I’m getting something else.”

Damien let her out of the booth, his eyes following her every movement. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“I’m fine.” She glanced at the bar to make sure Brett was still there. He was. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She sauntered across the club, feeling heads turn, enjoying the rush from the attention. Brett didn’t notice her until she slid into the seat next to him.

“Is this seat taken?” she asked, rotating the stool to face him.

“Nope.” He looked straight ahead and took a swig from his bottle of beer. His lack of excitement to see her disheartened her, but she wouldn’t give up. Maybe he was just having a bad day.

She pointed at his drink. “Didn’t they offer you a glass for that?” Not many people ordered beer on the VIP level, but the bartender should have served it in a classier way.

“It tastes better from the bottle.” He drank from it again, looking behind him like he was searching for someone who wasn’t Madison. What was his problem? Most guys would be thrilled if she gave them the time of day, and Brett had the nerve to act indifferent.

Her confidence waned. Why was Brett so disinterested in her? She might not have a reputation for being the friendliest girl at school, but she wasn’t cruel or slutty. Definitely not slutty. She wasn’t going to whore herself out to any guy who wanted her (which was a lot of them), so she would be patient until she met someone she wanted to be with. There had been times when Madison had contemplated giving up the hope of romance and losing her virginity to a friend. Oliver would probably be on board if she asked. But she held out hope that her first time would be special—with someone she loved, who loved her in return.

“So...” she said to Brett, trying to figure out how to continue the conversation. “I haven’t seen you here recently.”

“That’s because I haven’t been here recently.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t making this not-awkward thing easy. “Why’d you change your mind and come tonight?”

“I was forced.”

Madison didn’t know how to respond, so she ordered a glass of Meursault Chardonnay from the bartender. He carded her and scanned the fake ID Oliver had gotten through a connection for everyone in their group of friends, giving it back to her once it came through okay. The ID was top-notch and hadn’t failed her yet.

Madison lifted the glass to her nose and inhaled. Meursault was her favorite—full and buttery, with a finish of honey. It might mean another 100 fewer calories that she could have tomorrow, but she needed the liquid confidence. She swirled it around and tasted it. “This is delicious.” She savored the sweet aftertaste and held it out to Brett, leaning closer so he got a good look at her cleavage. “It’s my favorite wine. Want to try it?”

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